T 


M 

des 


Florie  Witlingham    Pickard 


Florie  Willingham  Pickard. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH 


BY 
FLORIE  WILLINGHAM  PICKARD, 


"  Remember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember." 
"  I  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gratiano, 

A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  a  part, 

And  mine  a  sad  one." 

—SHAKESPEARE. 


BROADWAY  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

835  BROADWAY,   NEW  YORK 


PREFACE. 


A  CLOSER  union  of  our  country,  the  sanctity  of  life  in 
our  American  homes,  the  terribleness  of  sin,  the  sor 
rows  resulting  from  war,  are  some  of  the  thoughts  that 
form  the  motive  of  this  hook. 

It  is  doubtful  if  this  hook  would  have  been  written 
but  for  the  encouragement  which  I  received  from  my 
husband,  William  Lowndes  Pickard,  author  of  "Under 
the  War  Flags  of  18G1,"  and  of  many  poems  and  liter 
ary  articles.  His  love  of  the  beautiful  in  literature  has 
been  my  inspiration  while  writing  "The  Ides  of 
March."  If  this  book  shall  help  some  to  have  nobler 
conceptions  of  life,  I  shall  be  repaid  for  these  years  of 
incessant  work.  THE  AUTHOR. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  Remember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember." 

"  The  baby  figure  of  the  giant  mass 
Of  the  things  to  come." 

— Shakespeare. 

MoTHER-bird  chirps  her  last  notes  to  her  fluttering 
nestlings,  busy  bees  cease  their  daily  toil,  little  chicks 
tuck  their  downy  heads  beneath  soft  feathery  wings,  old 
tired  sun  kisses  the  pink  roses  into  drooping  repose,  and 
the  heavy  odors  of  jessamine,  oleanders,  and  honey 
suckles,  stealing  through  the  open  casement  deepens 
the  repose  of  baby  Myrtle,  as  her  little  head  falls  wear 
ily  over  the  arm  of  old  "Black  Mammy."  Strange  no 
one  knew  anything  of  this  little  Southern  bird.  Did 
God  send  her  in  the  night  or  day,  in  sunshine  or  in 
rain?  Surely  her  mother  can  tell.  "No,  I  remember 
nothing  of  the  circumstances  attending  the  birth  of  the 
child,  except  that  she  was  born  on  the  "Ides  of  March," 
and  for  that  reason  I  called  her  'Idma,'  yet  her  father 
insisted  on  calling  her  Myrtle,  for  some  old  sweetheart, 
I  suppose.  It  has  passed  from  my  mind  now  why  the 
name  Myrtle  was  given  her,  but  then,  when  you  have 
eight  children,  you,  too,  will  forget  these  minor  things. 
-  Mrs.  Dean  had  invited  a  dozen  or  more  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  the  first  of  the  land,  to  dine  at  her  home. 
To  have  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  Dean's  was  quite  an 


2137754 


0  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

honor,  and  was  talked  of  among  the  ladies  for  days 
previous.  It  was  enough  for  the  world  to  know  Mrs. 
Dean  was  the  wife  of  the  wealthiest  planter  in  the  State 
of  -  — .  This  made  it  certain  that  any  reception  given 
at  the  mansion  would  he  considered  the  crowning  event 
of  all  social  occasions. 

The  hour  for  the  reception  was  drawing  nigh.  Down 
the  long  avenue,  made  picturesque  with  its  overlap 
ping  trees,  the  long  gray  moss  swinging  to  and  fro  by 
the  gentle  breeze,  and  where  birds  were  sweetly  sing 
ing  here  and  there,  fitly  called,  "Lovers  Retreat,"  you 
could  see  at  the  first  bend  of  the  road  the  elegant  car 
riages  coming,  first  one,  then  another,  and  another. 
Now  one  has  stopped  in  front  of  the  gate.  It  is  Mrs. 

C .  The  conveyance  is  not  turned  by  the  horses; 

oh  no,  this  might  jostle  the  grand  lady ;  her  two  foot 
men  take  hold  of  it,  and  gently  lift  it  around ;  thus  her 
ladyship  alights  without  soiling  her  silks  on  the  wheels. 
Leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  husband,  who  is  dressed  in 

spotless  linen,  the  fashion  of  the  day,  Mrs.  C goes 

up  the  graveled  walk  to  the  Dean  mansion.  A  servant 
in  livery  stands  at  the  entrance  to  show  her  the  parlor ; 
there  await  Mrs.  Dean  and  her  eldest  daughter,  Cath 
erine,  to  receive  the  guests.  If  any  one  knew  how  to 
give  a  dinner,  it  was  Mrs.  Dean. 

She  was  a  typical  Southern  woman ;  no,  this  could 
not  be  said,  for  she  was  too  cold-hearted,  and  shall  it 
be  added? — Mrs.  Dean  was  an  infidel.  However,  she 
was  a  brilliant  conversationalist,  dignified,  ambitious 
and  refined. 

Sweet,  soul-inspiring  music  filled  the  house.  When 
this  ceased  intelligent  conversation,  spiced  with  wit 
and  repartee,  held  genial  sway.  You  would  think  Mrs. 
Dean  was  anxious  about  her  dinner,  but  no,  she  knew 
nothing  of  what  would  be  on  the  table  until  the  cosily 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  7 

silver  covers  were  removed,  when  slie  and  her  p: ;  c-sts 
would  be  seated  at  the  table.  This  seems  marvelous  in 
this  day,  but  thgse  of  the  South  who  lived  in  the  old 
regime  know  it  to  be  true.  There  were  sixteen  servants 
in  the  Dean  mansion,  one  to  cook  the  cake,  one  the 
meat,  another  the  pastry.  Each  had  his  special  task. 
Hence  it  is  no  wonder  that  things  went  like  clock-work. 
Away,  now,  into  the  conservatory  to  inhale  the  per 
fume  of  opening  buds.  The  soft,  sweet  music,  the 
chirping  of  birds  in  the  tall  trees  near  by,  and  the  low 
murmur  of  the  fountains,  all  tended  to  make  one  feel  as 
if  he  were  in  an  enchanted  spot.  But  what  was  that? 
A  feeble  sob  of  an  infant  catches  the  ear. 

Well  for  the  nurse  Mrs.  Dean  did  not  hear  that  cry, 
for  although  she  had  eight  children,  go  when  you  would 
you  seldom  heard  a  sound  from  them.  To  know  how 
she  managed  thus,  you  must  understand  more  of  the 
beautiful  yet  cold  mother.  In  Mrs.  Dean's  room,  on  a 
spotless  white  bed,  for  the  mother  did  not  believe  in 
spoiling  babies  by  rocking  them  in  a  cradle,  lay  the 
little  babe,  Myrtle  Dean.  A  peep  at  the  precious  darl 
ing  shows  a  tear  glistening  on  her  white,  chubby  cheek. 
And  those  eyes !  could  you  once  see  and  forget?  Even 
through  her  tears  they  flashed  fire  and  sweetness, 
hatred  and  love.  It  has  been  said  the  eyes  are  win 
dows  of  the  soul;  it  was  only  too  true  in  this  little  one's 
case.  The  nose  was  Grecian,  the  mouth  showed  refine 
ment.  The  complexion  was  snowy  white.  The  small 
dimpled  hands  would  have  been  meet  for  a  model  in 
art.  The  hair,  dark  and  wavy,  was  as  fine  as  silken 
skeins.  She  was  a  good-natured  baby,  but  easily 
frightened.  Awakening  and  hearing  unusual  sounds, 
she  had  given  a  faint  wail.  The  old  black  mammy 
(bless  her  tle.-ir  old  soul)  hurried  io  the  baby'*  side, 
and  as  she  bent  over  the  tiny  form,  the  little  one  gave 


8  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

her  a  look,  trying  to  find  out,  in  her  baby  way,  if  she 
were  friend  or  foe.  When  baby  saw  love  in  old  black 
mammy's  eyes,  sweet  trust  came  into  hers;  it  was  then 
the  little  face  turned  to  say,  she  could  not  speak  but  by 
looks,  "I  love  you  nursy."  The  little  chubby  hands 
went  up,  the  tiny  feet  kicked  against  her  long,  white 
dress,  and  she  commenced  to  coo  in  her  sAveet  baby 
voice.  Dear  Myrtle,  even  as  a  babe,  how  you  loved  to 
be  loved,  ready  to  meet  all  more  than  halfway ! 

Love  pure  and  undefiled  is  seldom  given.  Hold  it 
baby,  hold  it  child,  hold  it  man,  hold  it  woman,  in 
whatever  guise  it  comes,  hold  it  fast !  It  is  thy  great 
est  jewel.  Bind  it  about  thy  neck.  Guard  it  well; 
rich  or  poor,  high  or  low,  it  comes  to  all  some  day; 
but  how  few  of  us  can  say  the  thief  has  not  come  and 
stolen  our  treasure  in  an  unguarded  moment;  and  we 
have  wept  and  wailed  in  our  despair.  Love,  love,  sell 
it  not  for  gold,  for  worldly  honor,  for  ambition. 

"  Mightier  far 

Than  strength  of  nerve  or  sinew,  or  the  sway 
Of  magic  potent  over  sun  and  star 
Is  love,  though  oft  to  agony  distrest, 
And  though  his  favorite  seat  be  feeble  woman's  breast. " 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  How  much  the  wife  is  dearer  than  the  bride." 

— Lord  Lyttleton. 

A  FEW  months  previous  to  Mrs.  Dean's  dinner  party, 
far  off  in  another  State,  sat  Mrs.  Waldo  in  a  low,  wil 
low  chair  by  a  large  window.  In  her  dainty  white 
hands,  was  a  fine  cambric  needle.  In  her  lap  lay  a 
long,  white  dress.  Each  little  tuck  and  each  little  puff 
had  been  made  by  those  same  dimpled  hands,  through 
many  days  and  nights.  On  a  chair  near  by  were  some 
of  the  finest-textured  fabrics,  placed  there  to  have  the 
finishing  lace  whipped  on  the  little  neck  and  sleeves. 
All  in  the  room  was  the  perfection  of  neatness.  The 
spotless  white  bed  was  high  from  the  floor.  The  car 
pet  had  been  taken  up  for  the  summer  and  a  new  mat 
ting  took  its  place.  The  bright  rugs  were  artistically 
placed  here  and  there.  The  quaint  mahogany  furniture 
was  highly  polished.  An  old  lazy  cat  lay  asleep  in  the 
sunshine.  The  curiously  wrought  clock  on  the  mantel 
ticked  the  hours  into  days.  There  were  pieces  of  deli 
cately  designed  fancy  work  on  dresser,  chair  and  table. 
Should  you  have  entered  the  room  a  glance  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  convince  you  it  was  the  love  retreat  of 
some  fair  creature.  As  Mrs.  Waldo  bent  over  the 
dainty  work  she  hummed  the  old  song : 

"  Come  rest  in  this  bosom,  my  own  stricken  dear; 
Though  the  herd  have  fled  from  thoe,  thy  home  is  still  here; 
Here  still  is  the  sraile  that  no  cloud  can  o'ercast, 

a  band  all  thy  QYFP,  $9  tljo  last, 


10  THE  IDES   OF   MARCH. 

Oh  !  what  was  love  made  for,  if  it  is  not  the  same 
Through  joy  and  through  torment,  through  glory  and  shame  ? 
I  know  not,  I  ask  not,  if  guilt's  in  that  heart, 
I  but  know  that  I  love  thee  whatever  thou  art. 
Thou  hast  called  me  thy  angel  in  moments  of  bliss, 
And  thy  angel  I'll  be  'mid  the  horrors  of  this; 
Through  the  furnace  unshrinking,  thy  steps  to  pursue, 
And  shield  thee,  and  save  thee,  or  perish  there  too !" 

The  birds  in  the  cedars  near  the  window  did  not  sing 
with  more  melody  nor  with  half  as  much  soul  as  Viola 
sang  to-day.  The  violet-blue  eyes,  hid  by  long,  droop 
ing  lashes,  turned  at  times  toward  the  window,  thence 
far  over  the  fields  of  ripening  grain.  The  gentle  breeze 
that  wafted  the  sweet  perfumes  of  the  jessamine  and 
magnolia  blossoms  played  about  the  head  of  Viola 
Waldo,  blowing  the  shining  ringlets  from  the  fair  fore 
head.  The  song  ceased ;  a  half  sigh  came  to  the  ruby, 
pouting  lips.  Viola  leaned  far  out  the  casement  as  if 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  some  loved  object.  "Oh,  why 
don't  my  sweetheart  come.  There!  getting  up  has 
made  me  drop  my  scissors  and  thread,  I  wish  my  dear 
boy  were  here  to  pick  them  up  for  me.  Oh,  can  it  be  a 
sin  to  love  so  much?  If  so,  I  am  lost,  for  I  know  my 
dear  husband  is  my  idol.  I  wonder  what  makes  me  so 
sad  to-day?  I  have  five  children  that  are  more  than 
beautiful,  and  they  are  so  good  and  sweet ;  my  every 
want  is  supplied,  a  husband  that  for  twelve  years  has 
made  each  month  more  of  a  honeymoon  than  the  one 
previous.  He  has  but  one  thought — the  love  and  hap 
piness  of  wife  and  children.  I  know  I  have  the  blues 
now  just  because  I  wish  to  see  him.  Well,  I  do  not 
believe  I  can  get  out  of  a  big  cry."  Viola  went  over 
to  the  low  couch,  with  its  crimson  cushion,  and  buried 
her  head  in  its  soft  folds.  The  band  that  bound  her 
hair  came  loose,  and  now  a  shower  of  gold  was  over  the 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  11 

plump  shoulders  and  white,  dimpled  arms,  that  could 
be  easily  seen  through  the  fine  sheer  muslin. 
'  "Oh,  sweetheart,  please  come  home,  why  do  you  ride 
on  that  black  mare  all  day?  Is  it  because  you  look  so 
handsome  on  her?  Have  you  not  enough  overseers  to 
look  after  your  business,  without  staying  so  long? 
You  say  you  never  leave  me  over  an  hour  at  a  time, 
but  it  seems  more  like  a  year.  Oh,  sweetheart,  if  I 
could  have  only  one  wish  realized  in  this  wrorld  it  would 
be  to  see  you  this  moment,  and  have  you  with  me 
alway." 

"Well,  my  sweet  Viola,  already  is  your  wish  partly 
granted,"  said  a  deep,  manly  voice  just  back  of  the  fair 
wife.  The  tear-stained  eyes  of  Viola  turned  to  meet 
the  answering  gaze  of  the  large,  black,  dreamy  eyes  of 
her  husband.  He  stood  erect,  six  feet  tall,  with  one 
hand  on  the  door  and  the  other  brushing  back  the 
glossy,  raven-black  hair  from  his  high,  broad  forehead. 
His  white  teeth  and  firm,  chiseled  mouth  were  hid  by  a 
thick  black  mustache.  As  Ulhugh  Waldo  stood  a 
moment  in  the  doorway,  one  of  his  quaint,  humorous 
smiles  made  the  dreamy  eyes  sparkle  and  parted  his 
lips  as  if  to  speak  love  to  sweet  Viola. 

"Well,  little  girl,  I  am  waiting  for  some  one  to  come 
and  meet  me.  Have  those  dear  feet  gotten  tired  of 
running  to  meet  sweetheart?" 

At  this  moment  he  saw  the  tears  in  his  darling's 
eyes ;  and  in  a  second  he  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of 
his  beautiful  wife.  "Why,  precious,  forgive  me  for 
teasing  you,  I  did  not  know  these  lovely  eyes  were  wet 
with  tears.  Let  me  kiss  them  away."  The  husband 
bent  low  and  showered  kisses  on  the  sweet,  innocent, 
childlike  face.  The  lips  were  kissed,  the  chin  was 
kissed,  the  cheeks  were  kissed,  the  white  neck  was 
kissed  and  the  blue  eyes  were  kissed  again  and 


12  THE   IDES  OF   MARCH. 

but  the  tears  would  not  stay  back.  As  soon  as  one 
dewy  pearl  was  kissed  away,  another,  and  another 
would  come,  as  if  they  loved  to  be  kissed. 

"Why,  angel,  what  is  the  matter?  Tell  me,  love." 
He  gently  raised  her  from  the  couch  in  his  strong  arms 
and  pressed  her  tenderly  to  his  bosom.  "Precious,  has 
anything  happened  that  you  would  keep  from  your  hus 
band?  I  thought  my  little  girl  told  me  the  secret  of 
her  every  heart-throb." 

"And  so  I  do,  my  sweetheart.  Never  in  my  life  have 
I  kept  a  single  thought  from  you.  Is  it  best  thus?  It 
has  been  said  no  woman  ever  told  her  husband  every 
thing;  nor  ever  did  man  tell  his  wife  all  in  his  heart; 
but  people  can  be  mistaken." 

"But,  little  girl,  you  are  keeping  something  from  me 
now. ' ' 

"No,  darling,  I  am  not.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  my 
trouble  is.  I  wish  I  could.  There  is  something  I  can 
not  express  in  words,  which  makes  me  feel  that  a  terri 
ble  time  is  impending ;  it  seems  we  are  on  the  eve  of 
some  great  calamity.  I  suppose  it  is  very  silly  to  act 
as  I  do,  but  I  cannot  help  it — what  is  it?  My  heart  is 
about  to  break. ' '  And  a  sob  shook  the  frame  of  the 
beautiful  wife. 

"Darling,  I  must  send  for  a  doctor,  my  little  girl 
must  bo  sick."  Rap,  rap,  rap!  Mr.  Waldo  put  his  wife 
gently  from  him  and  went  to  see  who  was  at  the  door. 
"Marster,  I  jest  come  to  ban'  dis  note  to  yer."  With 
a  low  bow  the  old  man  left  the  room  and  closing  the 
door  he  stood  outside  of  it,  awaiting  his  master's  orders. 
Opening  the  paper  that  had  just  been  handed  to  him, 
Mr.  Waldo  glanced  hurriedly  over  its  contents.  It 
was  then  his  ruddy  cheeks  turned  pale  as  death;  his 
manly  form  swayed  to  and  fro;  his  lips  quivered  and 
some  inarticulate  phrase  as,  wife,  children,  country,  oh, 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  13 

God !  was  half -audible  to  the  wife,  as  she  lay  on  the 
couch.  Viola  felt  with  a  woman's  quick  intuition  that 
now  it  was  time  for  her  to  be  brave.  Knowing  her 
husband  did  not  lose  his  self-possession  for  trifles,  she 
arose  from  where  she  lay,  went  to  where  he  stood,  and 
on  tiptoe  so  as  to  entwine  her  arms  lovingly  about 
his  neck,  imprinted  an  affectionate,  wifely  kiss  on  his 
brow.  "Ulhugh,  my  love,  what  is  it  that  troubles 
you?" 

From  his  hands  fell  the  paper,  Viola  saw  it,  picked 
it  up  and  read  it,  and  found  therein  our  fair  Southland 
had  now  need  of  her  bravest  sons.  "Oh,  Ulhugh,  were 
you  afraid  to  tell  me?  Would  I  have  been  a  wife 
worthy  of  you,  if  I  did  not  encourage  and  help  you  in 
everything  that  was  for  your  own  and  your  country's 
good?  No,  never,  never  my  precious  husband,  will  I 
stay  you  in  your  onward  course  of  nobleness  and  brav 
ery.  Dare  any  woman  take  the  marriage  vows  if  she 
has  but  her  own  selfish  being  to  please?  Should  it  not 
be  her  greatest  joy  to  have  her  husband's  interest  her 
iirst  and  sweetest  duty?  Ulhugh,  my  darling,  go,  your 
country  calls  you ;  do  not  tarry  for  the  loved  ones  here 
at  home;  you  have  a  wife's  blessing  and  her  prayers — 
let  me  seal  it  with  a  kiss."  Ulhugh  Waldo  folded  his 
sweet  wife  in  his  strong  arms ;  she  leaned  her  head 
trustingly  on  his  breast ;  it  was  then  the  big  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks  and  fell  on  Viola's  golden  hair. 

"My  noble  wife,  I  am  proud  more  than  ever  of  my 
little  girl.  I  knew  I  had  a  rare  jewel,  but  as  the  clouds 
grow  darker  you  shine  brighter.  Viola,  sweet  one,  you 
know  me  too  well  to  think  it  was  cowardice  that 
blanched  my  cheeks,  or  the  fear  of  the  cannon's  mouth 
that  inado  these  tears — no,  darling,  gladly  would  I  give 
u;j  lii'o  were  it  necessary  for  the  good  of  my  country; 
but,  little  on^  I  luvft  some  one  better  $an  m.v 


14  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

Need  I  tell  who  it  is?  You  know  only  too  well,  you, 
my  Viola,  first,  my  darling,  above  all  on  earth,  and 
next  to  you,  our  sweet  children.  Hear  them  now  as 
they  play  hide-and-seek  in  the  yard  with  laughter  and 
glee.  Come,  wife,  to  the  window7;  do  you  see  our  little 
darlings?  Look,  there  is  our  eldest,  Edward !  what  a 
good,  true  boy  he  is !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Viola,  "and  his  mamma  thinks  he  is 
handsome  and  noble  just  like  his  papa." 

"And  there  is  sweet  Maud,  the  brightest  and  smart 
est  little  girl  in  all  the  country,  and  poor  little 
Ernest,  our  second  boy,  sick  ever  since  he  had  that 
dreadful  fall;  dear  little  darling,  he  needs  our  care 
more  than  all  our  children ;  and  do  look  at  our  manly 
Raymond,  he  seems  to  think  it  his  duty  to  protect  his 
baby  sister.  And  what  shall  we  say  of  our  sweet, 
saucy,  loving,  naughty,  mischievous  Edith,  with  her 
golden  curls  and  big,  laughing,  wicked,  yet  divine 
eyes?  Papa's  baby  pet,  how  she  loves  me,  and  oh, 
how  I  love  her — but,  wife,  it  will  tire  you  to  stand 
so  long.  Come,  darling,  let  us  sit  by  this  cool 
window,  while  I  tell  you  something  else.  Give  me 
your  hand,  I  take  as  much  pleasure  in  holding  it 
now,  love,  as  when  you  were  my  bonnie  bride;  you 
would  not  before  that  time,  even  though  you  knew  I 
was  crazy  for  one  little  touch  of  your  finger.  Bend 
near,  sweet  one,  and  listen  to  my  last  words  before  I 
leave  for  the  battlefield,  to  fight  for  my  home  and 
native  land. 

"Viola,  you  think  you  can  read  my  heart,  but  for 
once  I  am  glad  you  cannot,  for  I  feel  it  is  bleeding  at 
the  thought  of  leaving  my  precious  wife  and  darling 
children.  When  I  am  gone  I  fear  I  shall  never  see 
them  more.  I  should  banish  ibis  thought,  however, 
for  God  holds  our  destiny  in  His  hands  and  He  doeth 
all  things  well — but  listen — I  hear  some  one  calling, " 


THE  IDES   OF  MARCH.  15 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die." 

—  Tennyson. 

THE  battle  of  Manassas  had  raged  fiercely  for  many 
hours;  but  all  had  become  quiet  now,  and  night 
had  thrown  her  sable  mantle  in  pity  o'er  that  dark  and 
bloody  field;  and  the  pale,  full  moon  cast  her  weird, 
silvery  rays  athwart  that  awful  scene. 

Among  the  wounded  was  the  gallant  Waldo.  As  he 
was  one  of  the  bravest,  he  was  found  in  the  front  ranks 
of  the  battle,  and  was  now  giving  his  life  as  a  sacrifice 
for  his  country.  Yes,  Ulhugh  Waldo  had  fallen  mor 
tally  wounded  and  was  lying  on  the  damp,  cold  ground 
in  his  life  blood,  that  was  now  slowly  ebbing  away. 
Oh!  could  you  read  the  thoughts  of  that  dying  man? 
A  relief  it  would  be  to  die  and  rest  from  pain;  but 
what  of  darling  wife  and  precious  children,  and  one 
little  babe  that  has  never  known  a  father's  kiss,  no 
tossing  up  and  down  in  papa's  strong,  manly  arms? 
And  let  it  here  be  written,  a  father  can  love  with  the 
same  undying  devotion  as  a  mother,  even  if  he  has 
never  borne  this  reputation.  Does  not  God  compare  His 
love  to  that  of  a  father's  pity  for  his  children? 

"Is  it  true  my  poor  wife  can  live  but  a  few  days? 
Sweet  it  will  be  to  meet  her  in  heaven,  but  oh !  what 
will  become  of  the  six  orphan  children?  The  world 
was  kind  to  them  when  they  had  a  father  and  mother's 
care;  then  they  needed  no  other  attention,  but  now  in 


10  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

their  direst  distress,  when  they  cry  for  pity  abuse  alone 
will  bo  their  portion." 

The  big  tears  rolled  down  Mr.  Waldo's  cheek  and 
mingled  Avith  the  pool  of  blood  that  poured  from  his 
wound.  The  brave  man  groaned,  but  it  was  from  his 
sad  thoughts  of  home  and  not  for  any  physical  pain. 
He  took  his  large  handkerchief  and  placed  it  to  his 
wound  to  stanch,  if  possible,  the  fast-flowing  blood. 
His  thirst  becoming  almost  unbearable  he  lifted  his 
canteen  to  his  ymouth;  there  was  only  a  mouthful  oi' 
water  in  it,  but  this  would  suffice  to  cool  his  parched 
lips.  The  dying  man  was  about  to  drink  when  he 
heard  a  piteous  cry:  "Oh,  sir,  will  you  not  give  me  one 
drop  of  water  ?  I  feel  my  life  depends  upon  it ;  water ! 
water!  please  sir,  or  I  die." 

Mr.  Waldo  turned  his  head  to  see  who  the  speaker 
was.  A  handsome  lad  in  blue  uniform  lay  just  within 
touch.  Even  in  the  flickering'  rays  of  the  pale  moon, 
one  could  see  this  was  no  mean  son  of  the  far  North. 
The  white  brow  was  broad  and  full,  and  every  feature 
of  the  wounded  youth  marked  him  as  a  son  of  high  and 
noble  birth. 

"My  good  lad.  I  am  glad  you  spoke  in  time.  I  am 
older  and  can  stand  hardships  better  than  you.  Take 
this  water  and  drink  it,  my  boy.  I  am  thankful  I  have 
it  to  give  you." 

The  thirsty  youth  took  the  canteen  and  drained  it  to 
its  last  drop.  "Oh,  thank  you  sir,  I  feel  better  already. 
If  I  only  had  something  now  to  tie  about  my  arm  to 
stop  the  blood,  but  I  do  believe  I  shall  bleed  to  death 
before  I  can  get  any  aid." 

"Let  me  see  your  arm.  my  lad,  I  am  somewhat  of  a 
surgeon  myself.  Yes,  it  is  a  painful  wound,  but  noth 
ing  dangerous,  if  we  can  stop  the  bleeding." 

In  another  moment   Mr.   Waldo  had   snatched  the 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  17 

handkerchief  from  his  own  wound  and  with  the  assist 
ance  of  the  lad  bound  the  cloth  tightly  about  the  boy's 
arm. 

"I  think  this  will  answer  now,  until  you  can  get 
further  help,  my  boy." 

But  the  exertion  was  too  great  for  Mr.  Waldo.  His 
wound  seemed  to  open  afresh  and  mother  earth  re 
ceived,  drop  by  drop,  his  life  blood. 

"Sir,  what  can  I  do  to  repay  you  for  your  kindness? 
I  feel  that  my  life  will  be  saved  through  what  you  have 
done  for  me." 

"My  boy,  do  not  thank  me.  I  did  no  more  than  I 
believe  your  father  would  have  done  for  a  son  of  mine. 
I  am  dying,  but  there  is  one  thing,  however,  I  would 
ask  of  you." 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,  sir.  I  will  do  anything  you 
request  of  me  if  it  is  in  my  power." 

"Lad,  it  is  this:  I  have  a  baby  son,  whom  I  have 
never  seen,  born  since  I  came  to  war;  his  name  is 
.Ulhugh  Waldo.  If  ever  you  meet  him  in  life  and  he 
needs  your  aid,  will  you  help  him?" 

"I  will,  sir,  indeed  I  will." 

"My  boy,  dip  your  finger  in  my  blood  and  swear  by 
it,  that  if  ever  you  can  add  to  the  pleasure  and  happi 
ness  of  my  baby  boy,  whom  I  have  never  seen,  yet  love 
with  all  a  father's  pure  devotion,  swear  to  me,  that  you 
will  help  him." 

The  finger  of  the  lad  was  dipped  in  the  flowing  blood 
of  Ulhugh  Waldo,  then  the  dying  man  held  the  boy's 
hand  high.  Thud!  thud!  thud!  three  drops  of  dark, 
muddy  fluid  came  down  and  beat  upon  the  breast  of 
the  dying  man  with  a  dull,  heavy  sound. 

"My  boy,  thy  oath  is  trebly  bound.  May  you  take 
the  same  sweet  joy  in  coming  to  my  boy's  rescue  that 
I  did  to  yours.  Go,  my  lad ;  thy  brother  in  blue  calls 


18  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

for  help;  but  we  are  all  the  same  now,  because  of  our 
trouble.  We  have  lived  apart  here  for  a  short  time, 
but  soon  in  Heaven  many  of  us,  the  'Blue'  and  the 
'Gray'  will  be  reunited  as  loving  brothers!  Wife,  in 
death  I  loved  you  as  in  life.  Children,  papa  loved  you 
to  the  last.  Lad,  I  die — bend  and  kiss  me  for  my  baby 
boy." 

Over  the  manly  figure,  the  "Blue"  over  the  "Gray," 
stooped  the  youthful  lad,  scarcely  more  than  a  child  in 
appearance,  and  reverently  imprinted  a  kiss  on  the  cold, 
damp  brow  of  the  dying  soldier. 

"I  am  ready  to  go  now.  Come,  Lord  Jesus!  come 
quickly!  Jesus  th-o-u  a-r-t  h-e-r-e!  A-m-e-n!'  And 
thus  did  the  soul  of  Ulhugh  Waldo  go  to  meet  his 
God— 

"  Another's  sword  has  laid  him  low, 
Another's  and  another's; 
And  every  hand  that  dealt  the  blow, 
Ah  me!  It  was  a  brother!  " 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  19 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  And  let  me  wring  your  heart,  for  so  I  shall, 
If  it  be  made  of  penetrable  stuff. 

— Shakespeare. 

THH  news  had  come  that  Mr.  Waldo  had  fallen  in 
battle.  But  could  any  one  have  courage  to  tell  the 
poor,  dying  Viola?  At  last  one  day  after  she  had  slept 
with  an  almost  deathlike  swoon,  Viola  opened  her 
dark-blue  eyes  and  looked  toward  the  kind  physician. 

"Oh!  I  have  had  such  a  fearful  dream,  I  thought  I 
saw  my  dear  husband  lying  on  the  battlefield  bleeding 
to  death;  and  because  of  his  suffering  I  cried  and 
moaned.  Oh !  yes,  I  know  my  husband  has  fallen  in 
battle,  mortally  wounded.  I  shall  never  see  him  more. 
What  a  relief  it  would  be  to  my  mind  if  I  knew  he  was 
free  from  his  suffering." 

The  good  doctor  thinking  this  the  best  time  to  break 
the  sad  news  to  Mrs.  Waldo,  bent  near  her  emaciated 
form  and  his  voice  became  tender  and  tremulous. 
' '  Mrs.  Waldo,  your  noble  husband  is  indeed  free  from 
pain  and  is  at  rest.  You  know  that  he  wras  a  man  pure 
and  righteous,  and  now  that  you  have  an  assurance  of 
his  happiness  in  heaven  I  hope  you  will  try  to  be  calm 
and  bear  your  troubles  as  a  Christian  woman,  and  as  a 
wife  well  suited  to  a  godly  man." 

Mrs.  Waldo  gave  one  long,  low  moan  and  held 
tightly  to  the  bedclothing  as  if  sinking  down,  down, 
down.  A  dreadful  darkness  seemed  to  envelop  the 
poor  woman — but  slowly  did  this  pass  away  and  then 


20  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

came  the  big,  hot  tears  from  the  sunken  blue  eyes. 
When  Viola  used  to  -\veep  her  noble  husband  wiped 
away  the  gathering  tears,  but  now  she  had  to  bear  her 
grief  in  silence  and  alone.  Xo,  not  alone,  there  is  One 
ever  near  to  catch  the  faintest  sigh.  To  Him,  the 
great  Comforter,  she  would  go  and  pour  out  her  inmost 
soul.  She  prayed,  and  her  prayer,  though  unspoken, 
gave  her  renewed  strength.  She  then  thought  of  her 
poor,  helpless  children. 

"Doctor,"  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  if  you  think  I  will 
ever  get  M-ell?  You  know  I  have  been  sick  for  a  long 
time,  so  tell  me  candidly  if  you  think  there  is  any  hope 
whatever  of  my  recovery.  I  have  six  helpless  children 
and  if  I  am  not  going  to  live  I  should  like  to  make 
plans  for  their  future  welfare.  I  have  no  property,  the 
war  has  made  me  as  poor  as  it  has  made  all  my  neigh 
bors.  But  if  I  did  have  everything,  what  could  six 
little  children  do?  The  eldest  is  not  twelve  years  old. 
Doctor,  if  I  am  going  to  die,  tell  me.  I  do  not  fear 
death,  it  is  only  for  my  darling  children  I  wish  to  live ; 
but  God's  will  be  done,  and  if  I  must  die  I  will  have 
to  place  my  little  ones  where  they  can  be  cared  for.  I 
could  not  die  in  peace  knowing  my  children  had  no 
home." 

"Mrs.  Waldo,  if  you  have  any  plans  to  make  I  would 
advise  you  to  make  them." 

"I  thank  you,  doctor,  for  your  candor;  I  will  do  so  at 
once.  My  brothers  and  sisters  have  so  many  children 
of  their  own,  I  doubt  if  they  will  take  all  my  darlings, 
but  I  have  two  friends,  one  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine, 
the  other  an  old  college  chum  of  Mr.  Waldo.  They 
have  no  children  of  their  own,  and  have  often  wished 
for  one  of  my  darlings.  Never  did  I  dream  the  day 
would  come  when  I  should  have  to  beg  them  to  take 
one  of  my  little  angels.  Oh !  my  Maker,  help  me  to 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  21 

drink  this  cup  and  may  I  not  murmur.  These  friends, 
Mr.  Felix  and  Mrs.  DeLong,  are  not  in  this  neighbor 
hood.  Doctor,  I  wish  you  would  send  for  them  as  soon 
as  convenient,  and  also  tell  my  brothers  and  sisters  I 
would  like  to  see  them." 

The  sick  woman's  request  was  immediately  complied 
with,  and  in  due  time  came  Mr.  Felix  and  his  wife, 
Mrs.  DeLong  and  husband,  and  all  the  brothers  and 
sisters  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Waldo.  The  sad-hearted  Viola 
sent  word  for  all  to  come  to  her  room.  In  a  few  min 
utes  friends,  brothers,  and  sisters  had  taken  their  places 
around  the  bedside  of  the  broken-hearted  woman.  Mrs. 
Waldo  made  repeated  efforts  to  speak  to  those  about 
her,  but  it  seemed  almost  a  deathlike  struggle. 

"I  have  sent  for  you,  but  I  believe  it  will  kill  me  to 
tell  you  why  I  called  you,  yet  tell  you  I  must,  and  may 
my  Father  in  Heaven  help  me!  Sisters,  brothers, 
friends,  the  doctor  has  said  I  can.  at  best,  live  but  a  few 
more  days.  Under  these  circumstances  I  deem  it  my 
duty  to  provide  homes  for  my  little  children.  I  have 
no  money,  but  some  of  you  have  asked  me  more  than 
once  to  give  you  one  of  my  little  ones.  The  day  has 
come  when  I  can  grant  the  request,  which  at  one  time, 
before  I  would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  I  would 
have  had  my  body  severed  in  twain.  Must  I  say  it? 
Yes!  I  have  sent  for  you  to  know  which  of  you  will 
take  my  jewels."  There  was  a  deathlike  silence  in 
the  room,  only  broken  by  the  sobs  of  Mrs.  Waldo,  when 
Mrs,  DeLong  bent  over  the  sick  woman  and  kissed  her 
hot  brow. 

"Viola,  do  not  grieve,  as  I  have  ever  loved  you  from 
a  girl,  I  will  love  one  of  your  little  darlings.  Give  to 
me  your  youngest  little  girl,  Edith,  and  when  I  behold 
those  eyes  that  look  so  much  like  yours  I  will  love  her 
for  your  sake  and  the  happy  days  gone  by.  I  have  no 


22  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

children  of  my  own,  yet  I  have  always  wished  to  adopt 
one,  but  could  never  find  a  child  that  just  suited  me. 
I  have  wealth,  even  luxury,  and  every  advantage  shall 
be  given  to  your  little  Edith;  and  I  here  solemnly 
promise,  with  God  as  my  witness,  to  do  for  your  child 
as  if  she  were  my  own — and  here  is  a  friend,  I  believe, 
of  your  husband,  Mr.  Felix,  who  wishes  to  see  you." 

"Mrs.  Waldo,  I  have  never  seen  this  good  woman 
before,  but  what  she  has  promised  to  do  for  your  little 
girl  I  will  endeavor  to  do  likewise  toward  another  child. 
I  wish  a  little  boy  that  looks  most  like  his  father  and 
with  your  permission,  will  take  the  little  boy  that  is 
just  a  year  and  a  half  older  than  his  little  sister  Edith. 
Yes,  I  would  have  for  my  little  boy,  Raymond,  and  to 
see  this  child  is  to  love  him,  for  he  has  one  of  the  best 
faces  I  ever  saw.  Mrs.  Waldo,  do  not  grieve  because 
of  this  child  you  give  to  me ;  to  my  dying  day  he  shall 
find  in  me  a  father  kind  and  true." 

While  the  conversation  was  going  on  in  the  sick 
chamber,  the  sisters  and  brothers  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Waldo  had  retired  to  another  room,  and  were  hotly  dis 
puting  about  the  division  of  the  children.  Those  that 
had  professed  most  love  for  the  children  when  they 
needed  no  help,  were  now  the  very  ones  who  denounced 
them  and  called  them  spoiled  and  wished  to  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  them.  Some  said  they  thought  it  very 
hard  to  take  other  peoples'  children  when  they  could 
barely  support  their  own.  Each  man  told  why  he 
could  not  take  any  of  the  children  to  his  home,  but  gave 
ample  reasons  (to  his  mind)  why  each  other  brother  and 
sister  should  take  a  child,  and  thus  they  fussed  and 
fumed  and  quarreled  until  some  of  their  angry  words 
came  to  the  ears  of  the  poor,  sick  woman.  At  last  Mr. 
Lane  having  taken  a  second  thought,  and  turning  the 
matter  well  over  in  his  mind,  decided  to  take  a  child 


THE  IDES   OF   MARCH.  23 

who  would  save  him  paying  servant's  hire.  "What  a 
fool  I  have  been  not  to  have  thought  of  all  this  before 
— why  a  girl  that  belongs  to  you  can  be  made  to  do 
anything;  wash  dishes,  cook,  iron,  milk  cows,  scour, 
and  no  telling  what  she  might  save  me.  I  will  say  at 
once  I  will  take  the  eldest  girl  before  some  one  else 
thinks  of  the  same  thing. "  So  with  these  thoughts  and 
only  his  own  sordid  interest  at  heart,  Mr.  Lane  arose, 
and  with  an  air  of  sanctity  said :  "I  feel  it  to  be  a  great 
responsibility  to  raise  another's  child,  but  some  one  will 
have  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  these  dear  little  children, 
so  I  am  willing  to  do  my  duty,  and  I  will  take  to  my 
home  the  eldest  girl,  Maud. ' ' 

Mr.  Laman  remembered  he  needed  another  plow 
hand.  "I  will  take  Edward,  the  eldest  boy." 

But  who  would  care  for  Ernest,  the  afflicted  child? 
This  dear  little  fellow  had  fallen  down  the  steps  when 
quite  small,  and  having  thus  injured  his  spine  suffered 
agony  at  times,  and  it  was  known  to  every  one  that  he 
would  never  again  be  well.  Now  Mr.  Homan  thought 
this  a  fine  chance  to  make  a  good  bargain. 

"You  all  know  this  child  is  sickly,  but  if  each  of  you 
will  agree  to  give  me  a  few  dollars  per  month  to  defray 
his  expenses  I  will  take  him." 

Every  one  in  the  room  agreed  to  this  proposition,  not 
that  they  desired  to  help  little  Ernest,  but  they  feared 
being  called  mean  and  stingy  by  the  other  members  of 
the  family.  There  was  one  exception  to  this  contract, 
however:  Mr.  Deely  preferred  taking  a  child  rather 
than  pay  the  few  dollars  a  month.  He  was  getting  old 
and  wanted  a  child  to  wait  on  him  when  he  should  be 
come  more  feeble.  It  was  true  he  had  a  boy  of  his 
own,  but  he  thought  too  much  of  him  to  let  him  work. 

"What  about  the  baby  boy?  It  will  be  quite  a  diffi 
cult  task  to  raise  so  young  a  child,  but  some  one  will 


24  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

have  to  undergo  the  labor,  and  it  seems  the  lot  has  fal 
len  to  me,  as  no  one  else  has  offered  to  take  him.  Be 
it  so,  tho  little  Ulhugh  shall  be  mine." 

Mr.  Felix  and  Mrs.  DeLong  came  in  the  room  at  this 
moment. 

"We  have  taken  Raymond  and  Edith." 

The  aunts  and  uncles  greatly  rejoiced  at  this  good 
news  and  for  awhile  the  discussion  ceased.  Mr.  Felix 
thinking  that  at  some  future  time  the  aunts  and  uncles 
might  wish  to  claim  the  little  boy  he  hud  chosen,  told 
Mrs.  DeLong  he  intended  making  the  little  Raymond 
his  own  by  law,  so  as  to  prevent  further  trouble.  Mrs. 
DeLong  was  glad  Mr.  Felix  had  thought  of  availing 
himself  of  the  law  in  securing  Raymond,  and  would 
herself  pursue  the  same  course  in  reference  to  Edith. 
All  the  aunts  and  uncles  thought  this  wise  of  Mr.  Felix 
and  Mrs.  DeLong  and  intended  to  follow  their  example. 
In  this  way  they  could  work  the  children  more  and  no 
one  would  dare  interfere.  An  officer  of  the  law  was 
immediately  summoned,  witnesses  were  called  in,  and 
the  almost  dying  woman  was  propped  up  in  bed  to  sign 
away  her  six  children.  God  alone  could  fathom  the 
sorrow  and  anguish  of  that  poor  creature.  If  she  had 
been  called  upon  to  sign  the  death  warrant  of  her  little 
darlings  she  could  not  have  grieved  more.  One  by  one, 
each  little  boy  and  each  little  girl  was  hers  no  more ; 
till  at  last  when  she  came  to  sign  away  her  little  babe, 
Ulhugh — he  that  bore  his  father's  name — the  pen  fell 
from  her  thin  hand  and  sobs  shook  her  form.  The  quill 
was  soon  given  back,  however,  and  with  an  effort  that 
seemed  to  take  her  very  life  away,  Viola  "Waldo  signed 
the  sixth  and  last  paper,  and  then  fell  back  on  her  pil 
low  almost  senselesf!. 

Mrs.  DeLong  vrLfliC-d  to  remain  with  her  dear  friend, 
but  her  husband  had  a  pressing  business  engagement 


THE    IDES   OF   MARCH.  25 

in  New  York,  which  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
tarry  another  hour  at  Mrs.  Waldo's  home,  and  as  Mr. 
Felix  had  to  return  immediately  to  Philadelphia  to 
attend  to  matters  of  urgency,  Edith  and  Raymond's 
clothes  had  to  be  packed  forthwith. 

Old  Mammy  Finn  felt  the  judgment  day  must  be 
near  at  hand.  As  the  dear  old  soul  folded  each  little 
dress  and  each  little  apron,  she  moaned  and  groaned, 
mumbling  some  inarticulate  phrases  to  herself,  and 
wiping  the  big  tears  from  her  good,  honest  eyes.  "Oh! 
my  heart,  what  gwine  be  de  next  ting?  Is  da  gwine 
to  tak'  Misses'  chillen  from  her  'fore  she  gwine  dead? 
Can't  da  let  her  be  put  under  de  groun'  fo  da  sap'rate 
sister  an  brodder?" 

But  go  the  children  must,  and  oh,  what  a  pitiful 
sight !  The  darling  little  Edith  did  not  realize  more 
than  that  she  was  going  to  town  to  get  candy  and 
apples.  She  went  around  nodding  her  little  curly  head 
and  saying  to  her  brothers  and  sisters:  "Oh,  me  so 
happy !  me  doin'  wid  de  dood  lady  and  she  say  she  doin' 
to  det  me  a  heap  ub  putty  tings,  and  me  doin'  to  bing 
my  'ittle  baby  budder  turn  and  all  you  turn,  and  nursy 
turn  too,  an'  she  doin'  to  det  me  a  dolly  too,  and  when 
my  fete  mamma  dets  well  she  will  dess  my  dolly  so 
putty  so  I  tan  sow  it  to  my  dear  papa  when  he  turns 
home — but  dear  papa  stays  'way  from  his  pet  Evif  so 
long,  me  so  tired  waitin'  for  him  to  turn  home,  and  lub 
and  tiss  his  'ittle  baby." 

Was  it  strange  Mrs.  DeLong  had  to  brush  the  tears 
from  her  eyes  before  she  could  see  to  tie  on  little  Edith's 
cap?  Hastening  as  much  as  possible  their  necessary 
departure,  Mrs.  DeLong  took  the  little  darling  in  her 
arms.  "Edith  dear,  let  us  go  and  tell  mamma  good- 
by,  you  must  be  a  good  little  girl  and  not  cry,  for 
mamma  is  sick  and  we  must  be  very  quiet."  Mrs. 


26  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

DeLong  then  opened  softly  the  door  of  the  sick-room. 
There  rested  Mrs.  Waldo  as  white  as  the  sheets  on 
which  she  lay  and  she  seemed  now  almost  rigid  in  death. 
Mrs.  DeLong  not  wishing  to  disturb  her  friend,  whis 
pered  to  Edith:  "Throw  a  kiss  to  mamma,  my  darling, 
we  will  wake  her  if  we  go  any  nearer. ' '  The  child 
kissed  her  chuhby  hands  again  and  again  to  her  mother, 
yet  Mrs.  Waldo  knew  of  nothing  that  was  going  on  in 
this  world.  The  little  Edith  lisped  sweetly,  as  Mrs. 
DeLong  was  closing  the  door:  "My  fete  mamma,  me 
tumin'  back  to  see  you  to-morrow  an'  me  doin'  to  bing 
you  turn  putty  ibbins  to  make  you  nice  bows  for  your 
bootiful  dolden  hair,  des  like  mine,  so  papa  tays." 
Edith  then  went  around  telling  her  brothers  and  sisters 
good-by,  the  two  eldest  of  whom  were  crying,  for  they 
had  begun  to  realize  things  were  going  wrong,  and 
then  she  told  her  aunts  and  uncles  good-by.  These 
kind  relatives  did  not  hurt  themselves  with  tears,  for 
they  looked  upon  the  child's  departure  as  a  good  rid 
dance.  But  when  Aunt  Finn,  the  kind  old  black 
mammy  nurse,  took  little  Edith  up  in  her  arms  and 
hugged  and  squeezed  her,  and  then  put  her  down  and 
ran  out  the  back  door  so  that  she  would  not  see  the  little 
one  start  off  in  the  carriage,  it  was  then  Edith  com 
menced  to  cry.  "Me  don't  wanter  do,  tause  nursy 
tyin,  she  want  me  to  tay  wid  her.  Ou  do  det  te  putty 
tings  and  me  will  tay  here  til  ou  turns  back." 

Almost  the  same  scene  transpired  at  the  departure  of 
Raymond,  the  little  boy  Mr.  Felix  had  taken.  Mrs. 
DeLong  and  Mr.  Felix  having  taken  their  departure, 
the  owners,  for  no  other  name  is  applicable  to  those 
who  had  taken  the  children,  told  the  little  darlings  to 
make  haste  with  their  packing,  for  they  ought  not  to  be 
about  their  sick  mother  any  longer.  Maud,  the  eldest 
daughter,  begged  so  hard  to  stay  with  her  dear  mother. 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  27 

' '  The  doctor  says  my  poor  mother  can  live  only  a  short 
time,  please  aunt  and  uncle  do  not  take  me  from  her." 

But  her  aunt  and  uncle  had  taken  council  together. 
"We  must  show  her  from  the  first,  our  will  shall  not 
be  disputed.  You  have  got  to  come  now,  and  we  do 
not  wish  you  to  be  acting  a  baby  either.  It  is  not 
essential  that  you  should  kiss  your  mother,  you  are  put 
ting  on  entirely  too  many  airs."  So  poor  Maud  only 
looked  at  her  mother  from  a  distance  and  was  leaning 
her  head  against  the  door  crying  when  her  uncle  caught 
hold  of  her  arm.  "Stop  that  foolishness  and  come  with 
me  this  minute. "  When  Mr.  Laman  told  Edward  to 
come  with  him  the  child  went  without  a  word,  for  he 
had  found  words  were  of  no  avail,  but  could  you  have 
See  the  boy's  face  you  would  have  known  his  stoicism 
did  not  mean  submission  to  the  will  of  a  cruel  uncle. 
Then,  when  the  little  Ernest,  the  poor  afflicted  child, 
was  told  that  he  would  have  to  go,  the  dear  child  crept 
softly  into  his  mother's  room  and  knelt  beside  her  bed 
and  buried  his  little  head  in  the  folds  of  the  covering. 

"Oh!  my  dear  mamma,"  and  his  little  voice  quiv 
ered.  "I  know  when  I  leave  you  I  won't  have  any 
body  to  love  me.  When  I  am  tired  and  sick,  who  will 
ever  kiss  me  and  be  sorry  for  me,  and  pet  your  little 
Ernest?"  How  he  longed  to  throw  his  arms  about 
his  precious  mother  and  kiss  her,  but  he  knew  he  could 
not  do  this  without  disturbing  her,  so  he  simply  pressed 
his  lips  to  the  pillow  on  which  his  dear  mother  lay.  As 
he  did  so,  he  touched  the  thin  hand  of  the  poor,  sick  wo 
man,  who  gave  a  low  moan.  Then  the  dear  little  fellow 
with  a  deep  sigh  (for  one  so  young)  left  his  mother's 
room  feeling  indeed  a  friendless  orphan.  Mr.  Deely 
wishing  Aunt  Finn  to  take  charge  of  the  little  Ulhugh 
until- the  child  should  be  large  enough  to  care  for  him 
self,  endeavored  to  find  a  plausible  excuse  so  that  the 


28  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

nurse  might  keep  the  baby.  "I  think  it  is  a  sharao  to 
take  the  children  from  my  dear  sister  in  this  way;  we 
should  wait  until  the  end  has  come  before  she  is  bereft 
of  all  her  loved  ones. "  Oh,  it  is  hard  to  believe  any  one 
could  be  so  full  of  hypocrisy.  Thus  was  Ulhugh  left 
with  Aunt  Finn,  to  the  delight  of  that  good  old  soul, 
who  had  almost  lost  courage  but  now  that  the  baby 
was  spared  to  her  she  felt  she  had  something  to  cling 
to. 

How  long  did  little  Ulhugh  rest  in  his  black  mam 
my's  arms?  Did  his  uncle  ever  come  again  for  him? 
What  was  the  end  of  the  little  boy?  Ah !  shall  you 
know  it  all — 

"  Since  knowledge  is  but  sorrow's  spy, 
It  is  not  safe  to  know. " 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  29 


CHAPTER    V. 

"  Travellers  must  be  content." 

— Shakespeare. 

WHEN  Mr.  Dean  returned  from  the  war  he  found  the 
lovely  homes  of  his  neighbors,  together  with  his  own 
beautiful  mansion,  burned  to  ashes,  his  provisions  all 
taken,  and  horses  and  cattle  driven  away.  The  good 
man  felt  that  he  too  must  go,  for  he  had  no  home  now 
to  induce  him  to  remain  longer. 

' '  I  will  go  to  another  part  of  the  country  and  try  and 
rebuild  my  fortune.  I  may  have  more  heart  to  work 
among  new  scenes  and  new  surroundings,  for  I  do  not 
care  to  stay  here  where  everything  reminds  me  of  that 
happy  past,  which  can  never  be  again.  Yes,  I  had 
best  leave  for  another  State." 

Oh,  what  a  day  was  that,  when  the  Dean  family  had 
to  start  they  knew  not  where !  Only  one  wagon  and  two 
mules  left  out  of  a  large  number.  Yet  Mr.  Dean  hoped 
these  would  be  sufficient  to  take  his  family  and  two 
trusty  servants,  "old  Daddy  Mike"  and  "Mammy 
Rachel,"  who  said  they  would  go  with  "Mosser"  (this 
dialect,  although  quaint,  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
negroes  in  some  sections  of  the  far  South)  and  "Misses" 
if  they  had  to  walk  all  the  way  and  starve.  "No, 
Mosser,  we  do  stick  to  unner  'till  de  good  Lord  do 
call  us  fum  dis  here  worl'  of  sin  and  sorrow,  we  bare 
do,  so  help  u-5  Jo  Lor;l. " 

Was    it    strango    Mr.   Dean    brushed   away  a   tear. 


30  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

From  whatever  source  ;,  kindness  might  come  he  was 
always  a  man  to  appreciate  its  worth. 

"Well,  Mike,  if  you  insist  on  going,  I  will  do  all  I 
can  for  you. ' ' 

As  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  Mr.  Dean  gave  his  orders 
to  Daddy  Mike  to  pack  and  store  away  in  the  wagon 
some  of  the  more  necessary  things  that  would  be  needed 
in  a  regular  camp  life.  Each  child  wished  to  carry 
away  some  little  keepsake,  €ne  a  chair,  one  a  doll,  one 
a  pretty  cup,  one  a  book,  but  baby  Myrtle,  the  child  of 
"The  Ides  of  March,"  that  ill-omened  day,  took  her 
little  kitty  in  her  arms  and  pressed  it  closely  to  her 
breast,  kissing  it  again  and  again.  When  her  old  nurse 
saw  the  cat,  her  superstition  broke  forth. 

"De  law,  baby,  unner  mustn't  tak  dat  cat,  I  alway 
hurd  dat  it  be  bad  luck  for  to  take  cats  wid  miner  Avhen 
unner  lebe  a  place." 

But  baby  Myrtle  held  fast  to  her  kitty,  and  when 
Mammy  Rachel  tried  to  take  it  away  she  screamed  so 
that  the  kitty  gave  a  piteous  mew. 

Mrs.  Dean  sat  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands. 
"Who  would  ever  have  thought  that  I,  Mrs.  Dean, 
would  come  to  this — the  richest  woman  in  the  land, 
to  ride  through  the  country  in  a  wagon  drawn  by  mules, 
and  to  have  to  camp  out  upon  the  wayside?" 

Mrs.  Dean  was  not  the  only  woman  that  could  be 
agreeable  and  affable  in  prosperity,  but  become  soured 
in  days  of  adversity.  Her  husband,  however,  was  good 
under  all  circumstances,  and  tried  in  every  way  to  com 
fort  his  wife. 

"Do  not  grieve,  my  dear,  the  Lord  sends  affliction 
that  He  may  purify  us  and  make  us  better  men  and 
women.  Let  us  receive  His  chastisement  with  meek 
ness  and  submission." 

"Mr.  Dean,''  and  the  wife's  voice  was  harsh  and 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  31 

cold,  "leave  me,  I  do  not  believe  in  your  God  and  will 
not  listen  to  your  religion."  The  pious  husband  turned 
away  with  a  deep  sigh,  wondering  to  himself  how  it 
was  possible  for  one  so  beautiful  as  his  wife  to  be  so 
ungodly.  Their  servants  remained  and  performed  their 
accustomed  duties  until  the  last  moment.  Their  home 
spun  aprons  often  going  to  their  eyes  to  wipe  away  the 
honest  tears. 

"Jest  tink  dat  Mosser  and  Misses  hab  to  leabus; 
what  is  we  gwine  ter  do,  de  Lord  only  knows."  Each 
servant  took  her  favorite  among  the  children  in  her 
arms  and  pressed  him  warmly  to  her  breast.  Lord 
bless  Tinner,  honey.  Good-by,  good-by." 

The  children  gave  the  servants  that  they  loved  most 
many  little  mementoes,  and  the  good  old  black  "mam 
mies"  and  "daddies,"  gave  to  their  favorite  pets  some 
token  of  love,  a  wooden  paddle,  a  spoon,  a  tiny  piggin, 
a  monkey  made  out  of  a  peach  nut,  an  alligator  tooth, 
a  snail  shell,  a  string  of  beads,  a  basket  made  out  of 
pasteboard  and  the  scrapings  of  cow  horns,  and  many 
other  quaint  articles  that  highly  delighted  the  children 
who  began  to  store  their  gifts  away  in  the  wagon,  be 
lieving  them  to  be  treasures  of  great  value.  Every 
thing  being  now  ready  for  the  journey,  Mr.  Dean  stood 
in  the  wagon  and  stretched  forth  his  hands  for  silence. 

"My  servants,  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  part.  I 
say  good-by  with  a  heavy  heart  for  I  know  that  I  shall 
never  again  meet  some  of  you  on  earth,  but  I  have  read 
the  Bible  often  enough  in  your  midst  for  you  all  to 
know  the  straight  and  narrow  way,  and  if  we  act  right 
nothing  will  keep  us  from  meeting  in  heaven." 

When  Mr.  Dean  sat  down  there  was  a  wail  oLsorrow 
that  went  up  from  the  heart  of  every  honest,  faithful 
negro.  Mr.  Dean  instructed  old  Daddy  Mike  to  drive 
on,  for  his  heart  was  now  full  to  overflowing.  When 


C:>  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

the  wagon  started  with  its  slow,  heavy  movement,  some 
of  the  negroes  fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon,  many  t-'-v> 
their  hair,  others  moaned  and  groaned,  with  tb. '.• 
bodies  swaying  to  and  fro,  while  others  leaped  upon  f  10 
wagon  and  clung  to  it  as  if  to  stay  its  progress,  utter 
ing  words  that  sounded  like  a  dirge. 

"De  Lord  do  bless  unner  Mosser,  de  Lord  do  bless 
unner  Misses,  and  de  Lord  do  bless  unner  little  chillis ; 
de  Lord  do  please  do  dis  for  de  sake  of  us  poor  black 
niggers,  de  Lord  grant  us  dis  yer  partition,  Amen!'" 

The  wagon  was  out  of  the  yard  by  this  time,  and  as 
it  passed  out  of  sight  the  poor  negroes  could  be  se?a 
wiping  their  eyes  with  their  big  red  handkerchiefs  and 
homespun  aprons.  The  children  in  the  wagon  cried 
and  would  not  bo  comforted.  They  waved  their  little 
hands  and  threw  kisses  to  their  old  black  mammies. 
In  fact  they  did  everything  to  show  their  love  for  the 
good  old  faithful  servants  they  were  leaving  behind. 
A  bend  in  the  road  separated  forever  those  who  had 
lived  so  ha.ppily  together.  Ah,  sad  day;  yes,  sad  alike 
to  both  master  and  slave. 

Baby  Myrtle  seeing  her  mother  looking  sad,  went  up 
to  her  and  laying  her  little  head  on  her  lap  said, 
"Mamma,  is  oo  rick?  my  dear  mamma,  me  so  sorry." 

"No,  child,  I  am  not  sick;  go  away.  I  don't  want  to 
be  bothered  with  children  now;  I  have  enough  to  turn 
me  crazy  as  it  is — here,  nurse,  take  this  child." 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Mrs.  Dean  to  call  Myrtlo'y 
nurse.  The  child  was  quick  and  sensitive,  and  if  the 
mother  had  looked  at  the  little  one  and  seen  the  pain 
dep'cted  upon  her  face  and  the  sad,  downcast  counte- 
nan°e,  she  would  have  known  this  child  would  not  long; 
bestow  her  love  on  one  that  would  not  return  it.  The 
baby  turned  to  her  nurse  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  She 
did  not  cry,  but  her  little  heart  was  broken.  Oh !  littles 


THE  IDES  OF    MARCH.  33 

Myrtle,  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  Your 
mother  has  never  loved  you.  Before  you  came  into  this 
beautiful  world  your  mother  did  not  want  you,  and 
then  when  you  were  born  it  was  on  the  fatal  "Ides  of 
March, ' '  and  your  mother  received  you  with  a  frown 
that  was  as  dark  as  that  ill-omened  day.  When  your 
laughing  eyes  met  your  mother's  as  you  lay  on  her  lap 
to  be  nourished,  never  did  an  answering  smile  greet 
you.  No  wonder  you  cried  and  no  one  could  tell  why, 
your  little  soul  knew  there  was  something  wanting — it 
was  love!  only  love! 

"Chilun,"  and  the  little  ones  crowded  about  Mammy 
Rachel,  "unner  der  been  good  chilun,  I  is  got  fresh 
candy  for  unner.  I  make  it  for  unner,  case  I  knowed 
unner  want  some  on  dis  here  trabbling." 

After  the  children  had  eaten  their  candy  Mammy 
Rachel  told  them  she  would  be  ready  in  a  minute  to  tell 
them  a  ghost  story;  and  "all  about  dem  memaids  and 
jack-may-lanters,  and  dem  hanted  houses."  Now,  did 
you  ever  know  children  to  tire  of  these  dreadful  tales? 
What  if  it  did  frighten  them,  as  soon  as  Mammy  Rachel 
finished  one  story  they  shouted  for  another.  "I  better 
not  tell  you  no  more,  case  unner  will  be  too  scared  to 
sleep  to-night ;  ax  Mike  to  gib  unner  a  little  tune. ' ' 

The  children  now  crowded  about  Daddy  Mike,  de 
manding  a  tune.  The  old  man  then  put  the  reins  between 
his  knees  and  throwing  his  head  to  one  side,  placed  his 
mouth-harp  to  his  lips  and  soon  were  heard  weird,  curi 
ous  sounds : 

"Ungle,  wangle,  single,  sangle,  mingle,  wangle — 
ding:  ungle,  wangle,  fmgle,  fangle,  dingle,  dangle — 
ting:  single,  sangle,  mingle,  mangle,  ringle,  rangle, 
tingle,  tangle — ting:  mingle,  mangle,  tingle,  tangle, 
lingle,  langle,  fingle,  fangle — fing !  Now  if  the  great 
Beethoven  had  heard  this  discordant  medley  it  is  prob- 


34  THE   IDES  OF  MARCH. 

able  bo  would  have  committed  suicide  on  the  spot;  but 
remember  there  are  few  that  have  their  souls  attuned 
to  sweet  concord  of  sounds.  The  "jingle"  and  "tingle" ' 
were  the  very  things  that  delighted  the  children,  and 
they  shouted  again  and  again  for  more.  Old  Uncle 
Mike  played  another  and  another  tune  and  thus  did  the 
day  pass  away.  Dusk  settled  o'er  the  earth  just  as  the 
small  band  of  refugees  neared  the  banks  of  a  beautiful 
stream.  There  the  weary  travelers  encamped  for  the 
night.  Old  Daddy  Mike  gathered  np  all  the  light 
wood  knots  and  built  a  big  fire.  Mammy  Rachel  went 
to  the  wagon  and  got  materials  for  cooking  supper. 

The  meal  being  over  Mr.  Dean  called  the  children 
and  servants  about  him:  "Stir  up  the  fire,  Mike,  while 
I  go  to  the  wagon  and  get  the  Bible."  The  sacred 
book  was  soon  brought,  and  some  of  the  children  sat 
on  old  logs,  while  others  on  the  long  tongue  of  the 
wagon.  The  servants  stood  respectfully  back  of  the 
little  ones.  What  a  picture :  The  large  trees  festooned 
in  long  gray  moss;  the  sighing  of  the  tall  pines;  the 
low  murmur  of  the  crystal  stream,  as  it  rippled  o'er  its 
white  pebbled  bed,  kissed  by  the  silvery  moon  the 
bright  fire  crackling  and  blazing,  as  it  cast  its  flicker 
ing  rays  upon  the  peaceful  group.  There  were  the 
boys,  two  missing,  but  those  that  remained  wrere  as 
handsome  as  were  ever  before  seen.  The  girls  from 
budding  womanhood  to  baby  Myrtle,  would  have  each 
made  a  model  sufficiently  beautiful  for  the  artistic  taste 
of  the  great  Angelo.  Mrs.  Dean,  haughty  and  cold  as 
the  frost  that  enveloped  the  night,  sat  in  her  queenly 
beauty,  thinking  of  her  past  glory.  Mammy  Rachel 
held  the  little  Myrtle  in  her  lap  and  ever  and  anon 
whispered  to  the  child.  "Unner  must  be  good  baby 
now,  papa  gwine  to  read  de  Bible."  Daddy  Mike 
stood  just  a  little  back  of  his  master,  holding  his  hat  in 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  35 

his  hand  and  looking  intently  on  the  ground.  His  hair 
was  as  white  as  snow,  and  trustworthiness  was  stamped 
in  every  line  of  his  good,  kind  face.  Mr.  Dean  with 
his  black  hair  and  eyes3  and  a  face  that  at  times  as 
sumed  an  expression  as  gentle  as  an  injured  fawn, 
Avhen  she  pleads  for  mercy  at  the  hands  of  the  hunter, 
sat  now  with  the  holy  Bible  on  his  knee,  turnimg  over 
the  leaves  of  that  sacred  book. 

"Before  reading  let  us  sing  that  grand  old  hymn : 
"How  Firm  a  Foundation." 

With  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Dean  all  joined  in  the 
sweet  song,  even  to  Daddy  Mike  and  Mammy  Rachel. 
Mr.  Dean's  deep,  melodious  bass  harmonized  well  with 
the  rich,  clear  soprano  of  his  eldest  daughter,  Cathe 
rine.  Baby  Myrtle  tried  as  best  she  could  to  lisp  the 
words  of  praise.  Did  you  ever  hear  an  old  beloved 
hymn  sung  in  the  midst  of  a  forest  with  the  darkness 
and  stillness  of  night  wrapped  about  you?  If  you 
have,  you  know  that  not  until  death  will  you  forget  the 
feeling  of  reverence  that  then  took  possession  of  you ; 
and  if  you  have  not  no  words  can  possibly  convey  to 
you  the  inspiration  of  such  an  hour. 

The  song  having  ceased  Mr.  Dean  turned  to  the 
ciii.  Psalm  commencing:  "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul; 
and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  His  holy  name. ' '  After 
reading  these  comforting  words  there  was  a  prayer 
of  thanksgiving  offered  to  God.  When  the  prayer  was 
ended,  the  children  went  to  papa  to  receive  their  usual 
good-night  kiss.  Then  Mammy  Rachel  took  the  little 
ones  and  tucked  them  away  in  the  wagon. 

Mr.  Dean  remained  on  a  large  log  by  the  fire,  as  there 
was  not  enough  covering  for  all.  Old  Daddy  Mike 
also  got  near  the  blaze  and  gave  it  a  poke.  He  then 
sat  down  on  some  light  wood  knots  and  putting  his 
head  in  his  hands,  leaned  over  till  his  knees  met  his 
face,  and  in  this  position  wras  soon  fast  asleep. 


36  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 

An  hour  later  and  all  in  the  little  band  about  that 
camp  fire  were  lost  in  deep  slumbers,  except  one  little 
one,  whom  you  would  have  supposed  would  have  been 
the  first  to  sleep.  This  was  baby  Myrtle.  Her  little 
eyes  were  stretched  wide  open,  for  the  screeching  of  the 
owls,  the  snoring  of  Daddy  Mike,  and  the  weirduess  of 
the  shadows  that  were  cast  by  the  flickering  firelight, 
made  the  little  one  afraid.  "Nursy,  me  is  told,  and 
me  do  hear  dat  dedful  noise." 

"Yes,  hunny,  unner  is,  but  mammy  is  here  and  she 
gwine  der  cubber  unner  up  now  and  stay  by  unner  so 
nuthing  won't  hurt  mammy's  baby,"  and  then  as  the 
old  nurse  patted  the  little  one  to  sleep  she  sang  in  her 
quaint  way:  'Go  to  sleep,  mammy's  sweet  baby,  goto 
sleep,  mammy's  sweet  baby;  unner  des  know  mammy 
lub  you,  unner  des  know  mammy  lub  you ;  go  to  sleep, 
my  sweet  baby."  The  little  eyelids  drooped,  the  little 
lips  parted  into  a  smile,  the  old  nurse  crept  by  the  side 
of  the  baby  child,  and  soon  the  hush  of  sleep,  the 
silence  of  the  midnight  hour,  and  the  ever  watchful  eyes 
of  our  Heavenly  Father  was  upon  the  weary  band  of 
refugees. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  37 


CHAPTER    VI. 

"  Come  in  the  evening,  or  coine  in  the  morning; 
Come  when  you're  looked  for  or  come  without  warning." 

—  Thomas  0.  Daois. 

IN  one  of  the  Northern  States,  in  a  home  of  luxury, 
ease,  culture,  and  refinement,  sat  Mrs.  Lamont,  deeply 
asborbed  in  thought.  For  two  hours  she  had  tried  to 
read,  but  had  failed.  The  book  lay  unheeded  in  her 
lap.  A  deep  sigh  escaped  from  her  white  lips;  her 
bosom  heaved ;  her  eyes  turned  ever  and  anon  to  the 
door,  as  if  looking  for  some  one;  the  September  gale 
whistled  through  the  keyholes  and  seemed  to  mock  the 
sad  woman. 

Mrs.  Lamont  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  arising 
let  the  book  drop  from  her  lap  and  paced  to  and  fro  in 
the  long  room.  "Anything,  everything!  rather  than 
this  dreadful  suspense ;  my  heart  will  break  if  the  strain 
upon  it  lasts  much  longer. "  Passing  her  hand  over  her 
forehead  she  brushed  back  the  soft,  once  auburn  tresses, 
but  now  gray  from  sorrow.  Her  grief  was  too  intense 
for  tears.  At  last  the  poor  woman  sank  upon  her  knees 
to  commune  with  her  God — ' '  Oh,  Jesus,  take  care  of  rny 
boy.  Bring  him  back  to  my  arms.  He  is  all  I  have. 
Master,  if  it  be  Thy  will,  give  my  precious  boy  to  me 
again." 

So  deep  was  Mrs.  Lament's  grief  that  she  did  not 
heed  the  gentle  knock  at  her  door,  nor  see  some  one 
enter  and  stand  a  moment  at  the  threshold  and  then 
kneel  softly  by  her  side.  What  a  beautiful  sight  to  be- 


38  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

hold !  The  high-born  lady  kneeling  with  the  firelight 
casting  its  lights  and  shadows  upon  the  sad,  yet  lovely 
face.  Her  neat  black  dress,  with  spotless  white  lace 
at  neck  and  sleeves,  made  her  to  appear  almost  nun-like 
in  her  apparel.  One  hand  was  on  her  heart,  while  the 
other  pressed  her  throbbing  temples.  Her  face  wore 
an  expression  of  calm  submission  to  the  will  of  God. 
It  was  when  the  struggle  was  over  and  Mrs.  Lamont 
felt  that  God  doeth  all  things  well,  that  some  one  had 
entered  the  room  and  gazed  for  a  moment  on  that  lovely 
countenance  that  seemed  as  if  it  were  an  angel's  face. 

The  scene  was  one  of  awe — everything  was  sacred 
and  holy.  The  stranger  took  his  soldier's  cap  respect 
fully  from  his  light  hair,  and  ere  another  moment 
passed  he  was  kneeling  by  Mrs.  Lament's  side.  In  his 
hand  was  a  musket  and  cap ;  over  his  shoulder  hung  a 
dry  canteen ;  his  clothes  were  dusty  and  worn ;  his  hair 
was  long  yet  this  did  not  detract  from  his  youthful  face. 
As  these  two  knelt  all  nature  seemed  to  have  been 
hushed.  The  watch-dog  had  ceased  to  bark;  the  winds 
had  been  lulled  to  sleep ;  the  old  cat  that  lay  on  the  soft 
rug  by  the  fire  thought  it  too  much  effort  to  purr ;  the 
bronze  clock  on  the  marble  mantel  seemed  scarcely  to 
tick ;  the  family  portraits  in  their  gilded  frames  looked 
solemnly,  yet  approvingly  down,  and  our  Father  in 
heaven  saw  these  two,  His  children,  and  loved  them. 

The  stranger's  prayer  was  one  of  thanksgiving  to 
God;  and  when  Mrs.  Lamont  uttered:  "Oh,  God,  take 
care  of  my  boy;  bring  him  to  my  arms,  he  is  all  I 
have;  Master,  if  it  be  Thy  will  give  my  darling  again 
tome."  Someone  whispered  in  a  voice  so  soft  that 
the  good  woman  thought  she  was  dreaming: 

"My  mother,  your  prayer  is  answered;  your  boy 
awaits  a  mother's  kiss  and  blessicg." 

Do  you  wonder  that  Mrs.    Lamont  was  dazed  with 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  39 

surprise,  as  she  turned  to  clasp  her  precious  boy  to  her 
now  exultant  heart?  Mrs.  Lament  kissed  her  boy  and 
then  held  him  from  her  to  look  into  his  face,  then 
showered  kisses  upon  him,  alternately  crying  and 
laughing.  Lenfred  laughed  and  blushed  deeply  as  his 
mother  began  scrutinizing  him,  for  he  knew  his  apparel 
would  not  bear  close  inspection.  The  mother  knew 
why  the  color  came  to  her  boy's  handsome  face,  and  she 
kissed  him  again  to  put  him  at  ease.  Neither  mother 
nor  son  spoke,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  long  this 
pantomime  might  have  continued  had  not  the  supper 
bell  rung  and  made  them  conscious  of  their  surround 
ings. 

"Mother,  I  believe  it  will  take  me  a  week  to  make 
myself  presentable  j  I  cannot  sit  at  the  same  table  with 
you,  so  please  prepare  something  for  me  and  let  me 
eat." 

The  good  mother  did  not  wait  for  her  son  to  finish 
this  sentence,  but  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck,  led 
him  to  the  cheerful  dining  room,  where  was  spread  on 
the  snowy  tablecloth  all  the  dainty  viands  a  king  could 
desire,  much  less  a  hungry  soldier  boy.  Leave  mother 
and  son  to  their  supreme  happiness.  Oh !  the  joy  of 
that  reunion!  Oh!  the  pleasure  of  that  evening!  Oh! 
the  rapture  of  those  hearts  once  severed  but  now  united 
in  almost  heavenly  love! 


40  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 
That  were  most  precious  to  me." 

— Shakespeare.. 

MRS.  WALDO,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  did  not  die, 
but  still  lingered  on  her  sick-bed  to  the  amazement  of 
all  her  friends.  Her  many  relatives  who  had  seem 
ingly  thought  so  much  of  her  when  in  prosperity  and 
wealth,  now  that  she  was  ill,  poverty-stricken,  and 
could  be  of  no  service  to  them,  left  her  for  their  OAVII 
homes.  Her  nearest  neighbor  was  more  than  a  mile 
away,  so  it  was  seldom  she  saw  any  one.  Mammy 
Finn  tenderly  and  gently  nursed  her  and  supplied  her 
every  possible  want.  The  kind  physician  came  day 
after  day,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  would  never 
get  any  pay.  God  be  praised  for  those  pure  hearts  that 
live  feeling  that  life  is  not  to  be  spent  in  hoarding  up 
riches  to  be  devoted  to  themselves,  while  the  orphan 
and  widow  cry  for  help.  Dr.  DeSay  was  one  of  the 
many  physicians  who  never  thought  of  self.  May  God 
ever  bless  those  men,  who,  regardless  of  weather,  even 
when  sick  themselves,  strive  to  relieve  others;  those 
consecrated  physicians  who  while,  they  administer  to  the 
physical  wants  of  their  patients,  never  lose  an  oppor 
tunity  to  encourage  and  strengthen  the  souls  of  those 
who  are  sick. 

Oh!  physician!  what  a  grand  calling  you  have! 
w  ever  he  true  to  your  trust  \  God  shower  his 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  41 

richest  blessings  upon  all  who  are  physicians  in  deed 
and  in  truth. 

The  day  Mr.  Waldo  left  for  the  war  Viola  looked  as 
young  and  pretty  as  when  a  bride,  but  could  tbe  hus 
band  now  see  the  wife  he  would  not  recognize  his  once 
beautiful  Viola.  Mr.  Waldo  had  been  a  devoted  hus 
band,  and  the  fair  hands  of  his  Viola  seldom  found 
more  service  than  that  of  stroking  the  silken  black 
locks  of  her  handsome  husband.  Viola  often  tried  to 
work,  but  her  servants  would  cry  out  in  holy  horror 
that  such  a  pretty  little  thing  would  soil  her  white, 
dimpled  hands.  She  would  run  to  her  husband  when 
he  came  home,  and  tell  him  how  Aunt  Jane  and 
Mammy  Finn,  and  in  fact  all  the  servants,  would  not 
let  her  do  a  single  thing.  "Why,  I  believe  they  think 
I  am  a  doll-baby;"  and  then  she  would  look  at  her 
husband  with  those  big  violet  eyes,  and  pout  her  ruby 
lips,  and  then  fall  in  Ulhugh's  strong  arms  that  had 
opened  wide  to  enfold  his  little  wife,  saying  as  he 
did  so : 

"Why,  no,  my  pet,  you  are  no  doll-baby,  but  an 
angel  instead,  and  from  all  I  can  find  out  angels  do  not 
work.  Poor  little  girl.  I  am  sorry  you  should  have  so 
much  trouble,  but  you  know  the  fairest  sky  must  have  its 
clouds.  I  know,  however,  my  little  pet  will  be  brave 
now  that  the  clouds  are  coming  so  thick  and  fast.  I 
hope  my  love  for  my  sweet  wife  yes,  the — sweetest  wife 
in  all  the  world — will  enable  her  to  bear  up  under  her 
many  burdens. "  Ulhugh  kissed  many  times  his  pet's 
dimpled  cheeks  that  were  now  crimson  with  blushes. 
Viola  knew  her  husband  was  teasing  her,  but  where  is 
the  wife  that  does  not  love  such  rapturous  vexing?  If 
Mr.  Waldo  had  loved  Viola  as  a  sweetheart,  he  wor 
shipped  her  as  a  wife — his  gentleness  and  tenderness  to 
her  brought  to  remembrance  the  chivalry  and 


42  THE  IDES   OF   MARCH. 

of  ancient  knights  for  their  lady  loves.  Yes,  the  hus 
band  had  more  than  excelled  the  lover  in  all  the  little 
courtesies  of  everyday  life.  Was  it  strange  that  when 
Viola's  husband  was  called  from  her,  she  was  none  the 
less  lovely  than  when  a  sweet,  blushing  bride?  Do  not 
censure  and  call  the  Southern  women  "Poor  little  de 
pendent  things."  The  chivalry,  gallantry,  and  man 
liness  of  her  men  have  made  her  women  trusting,  cling 
ing  tendrils.  The  Southern  gentlemen  wished  their 
wives  and  daughters  to  be  loving,  confiding  lovers  of 
home ;  and  to  be  so  attractive  and  cheerful  and  accom 
plished,  that  when  father,  brother,  husband  came  from 
work,  home  should  be  the  sweetest,  happiest,  most 
blessed  spot  on  earth !  Only  men,  they  said,  were  made 
to  work  and  toil.  A  typical  Southern  gentleman  dur 
ing  the  old  regime  would  have  thought  himself  more 
than  a  brute  had  he  allowed  his  wife  and  daughters  to 
cook,  wash,  or  do  the  least  drudgery.  There  was  noth 
ing  too  hard  for  the  husband  to  perform,  but  for  the 
beautiful  wife  and  fair  daughters  where  did  the  good 
man  ever  find  anything  he  thought  easy  enough  for 
their  white  hands?  Oh !  you  brave,  noble  men  of  our 
fair,  sunny  South — long  may  you  live  in  history  and  in 
song,  and  may  nations  rise  to  copy  your  true  and  sturdy 
manliness,  and  may  God  bless  you  and  your  sons,  even 
unto  your  children's  children.  Viola  was  herself  now 
only  in  name.  Grief  had  stolen  the  roses  from  her 
cheeks  and  strewn  many  silver  threads  through  her 
sunny,  golden  hair.  The  once  fair  and  rounded  neck 
and  arms  were  now  in  unison  with  the  thin  pinched 
cheeks,  and  caused  one  to  turn  away  and  heave  a  deep 
sigh.  No,  death  did  not  come  to  Mrs.  Waldo,  but,  alas, 
her  illness  had  left  her  only  a  shadow  of  the  once 
lovely  Viola, 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  43 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  The  drying  of  a  single  tear  has  more 
Of  honest  fame  than  shedding  seas  of  gore." 

— Byron. 

MR.  DEAN  traveled  with  his  family  many  days,  and 
inquired  of  the  people  of  the  country  so  as  to  decide  on 
some  place  where  he  might  permanently  locate.  The 
children  treasured  in  their  minds  for  years  afterward 
many  curious  things  that  happened  on  that  long  and 
tedious  journey.  Mr.  Dean  had  crossed  the  border  line 
of  his  own  State,  and  had  gone  far  south  into  another, 
when  Mrs.  Dean  became  suddenly  ill,  and  as  she  was 
unable  to  travel  further  they  stopped  in  a  small  cabin 
by  the  wayside.  It  was  a  miserable  crumbling  log 
hut,  with  large  cracks  filled  with  daubed  earth;  a 
stick-and-mud  chimney  that  looked  as  if  it  might  fall 
at  any  moment;  no  floor  but  the  dark  powdered  dirt; 
no  window  but  a  hole  cut  in  the  logs ;  and  no  water 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

This  for  awhile  was  to  be  Mrs.  Dean's  home.  What 
a  step !  from  a  grand  mansion  to  a  crumbling  hovel ! 
The  small,  one-roomed  hut  was  made  as  habitable  as 
possible.  There  was  erected  in  one  corner  a  stationary 
bed,  made  of  old  boxes  and  small  pine  saplings,  two 
sides  of  which  were  nailed  into  the  logs  of  the  cabin  to 
keep  it  from  falling.  Upon  this  unsightly  and  uncom 
fortable  improvised  resting  place  the  proud,  queenly 
Mrs.  Dean  was  only  too  glad  to  lay  her  weary  head. 
Spiders,  bugs,  lizards,  snakes,  and  even  scorpions  were 


44  THE   IDES  OF   MARCH. 

found  in  the  hut,  to  the  fear  and  consternation  of  the 
children  and  servants,  but  all  these  horrors  had  to  be 
endured,  for  Mrs.  Dean  was  now  too  ill  to  be  removed. 
Mr.  Dean  nursed  his  wife  through  that  long  spell  of 
typhoid  fever  with  all  the  devotion  of  a  true  husband ; 
but  had  she  not  possessed  a  wonderful  constitution  she 
could  never  have  endured  the  privations  and  vicissi 
tudes  of  that  trying  period.  No  doctor  ever  came  near 
the  hut,  for  there  was  none  to  be  found,  but  so  tender 
was  the  care  Mrs.  Dean  received,  and  so  attentive  were 
her  husband  and  Mammy  Rachel,  that  at  the  end  of 
several  weeks  she  was  able  to  sit  up,  and  in  course  of 
time  she  was  herself  once  more. 

Mr.  Dean  began  to  travel  again  and  in  due  time  he 
came  to  a  country  luxuriant  in  sugar  cane,  cotton, 
watermelons,  green  corn,  sweet  potatoes,  peas,  ground 
nuts,  chooffers,  clover,  hay,  oats,  and  everything 
needed  by  man  and  beast.  In  the  lowlands  were  long 
rows  of  rice,  and  in  the  fence  corners  were  blackberry 
bushes  covered  with  luscious  fruit.  The  woods  were 
full  of  huckleberries,  and  earlier  in  the  spring  the 
May-haw  had  covered  the  ponds  with  its  red  fruit. 
Peaches,  pears,  apples,  figs,  pomegranates  and  plums 
were  plentiful.  Surely  this  place  could  satisfy  the 
longings  of  any  planter;  and  Mr.  Dean's  heart  beat 
with  exultant  expectations  as  he  rode  on  in  search  of  a 
dwelling  which  he  soon  found. 

Several  weeks  passed,  however,  before  Mr.  Dean 
could  make  permanent  arrangements  for  the  purchase 
of  the  land.  He  was  indeed  a  happy  man  when  he 
realized  that  he  had  once  more  a  home  for  his  family, 
for  they  had  long  been  sadly  in  need  of  one;  yet  it  took 
days  of  laborious  work  to  get  the  house  in  a  condition 
to  be  occupied. 

All  in  thQ  fo  roily  who  were  large  enough,  worked 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  45 

hard,  with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Dean.  She  had  no 
intention  of  ever  degrading  herself  by  scrubbing  and 
scouring.  When  Myrtle  saw  her  older  sisters  climbing 
to  the  top  of  the  large  goods  boxes,  piled  one  upon  the 
other  that  they  might  reach,  to  wash  and  wipe  the  high 
ceilings,  her  heart  beat,  for  she  expected  to  see  them 
fall  every  minute.  But  laughingly  and  cheerfully  did 
they  do  their  work,  for  they  had  too  much  of  their 
father's  blood  in  their  veins  to  shirk  whatever  might  be 
put  upon  them.  Myrtle  did  her  part  by  handing  the 
rags  that  would  drop  to  the  floor,  and  the  child  would 
go  every  few  minutes  and  get  fresh  water  for  her  sis 
ters,  and  see  that  they  kept  supplied  with  soap ;  but  for 
little  Myrtle — she  seemed  apart  from  everything  and 
everybody;  no  one  understood  her,  and  even  her  broth 
ers  and  sisters  misconstrued  her  purest  motives;  her 
mother  despised  her;  and  her  father,  influenced  by  his 
wife,  heeded  her  not;  so  she  was  left  to  grope  her  way 
as  best  she  could.  She  was  no  longer  the  once  beauti 
ful  child  with  chubby  limbs  and  full-arched  eyes,  but 
had  grown  thin,  pale,  and  almost  ghost-like.  Her 
cheeks,  once  so  round  and  full,  were  sunken  almost  to 
the  bone ;  her  hair,  once  so  beautiful  and  flowing,  was 
now  cut  short  in  order  to  do  away  with  the  trouble  of 
caring  for  it.  But  in  this  wide  world  of  ours  God 
generally  gives  us  one  friend  even  though  he  comes 
from  a  place  we  least  expect.  Even  now  little  Myrtle 
found  a  friend  Cecil  Clair.  But,  who  is  Cecil  Clair? 
Many  years  before,  Cecil's  grandfather  came  over 
from  England  with  Mr.  Dean's  father,  and  settled  in 
Virginia.  They  were  devoted  friends,  and  in  the 
course  of  time  wooed  and  won  two  girls  who  had  been 
friends  from  childhood.  The  friends  had  a  double 
v. o-ldiug,  and  for  yccrs  r.f forward  lived  side  by  side  in 
a  beautiful  Virginia  village,  Their  children  grew  up 


46  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

together,  and  learned  to  love  each  other  as  brothers  and 
sisters ;  this  continued  as  the  years  went  by.  But  in 
time  Mr.  Dean  thought  it  his  interest  to  go  far  south, 
and  Mr.  Clair  decided  at  the  same  time  to  move  to  New 
York.  Each  worked  to  better  his  condition.  In  time 
Mr.  Dean  became  a  wealthy  Southern  planter,  and  Mr. 
Clair  reached  the  topmost  round  in  the  mercantile 
world.  The  families  though  far  separated  continued  to 
visit  each  other — the  Glairs  coming  South  in  winter, 
and  the  Deans  going  North  in  summer.  The  boys  at 
tended  the  same  university  in  Virginia,  and  roomed  to 
gether,  and  thus  true  friendship  was  handed  down  from 
father  to  son  even  to  the  third  generation.  Then  it  was 
the  cruel  war  came  on.  Could  friends  fight  against 
friends?  Must  one  wear  the  "gray"  while  the  other 
donned  the  "blue?"  But  duty  demanded  it  even 
though  the  blood  should  curdle  and  the  heart  stop  its 
pulsations  at  the  thought  of  such  a  direful  necessity. 

Mr.  Clair,  Cecil's  father,  answered  promptly  his 
country's  call,  as  did  also  Mr.  Dean.  Mr.  Clair  stated 
in  his  will  that  should  he  fall  in  battle  he  desired  Mr. 
Dean,  if  not  slain  also,  to  become  his  son's  sole  guar 
dian,  ani  that  he  should  live  South  with  his  (Mr. 
Dean's)  family  until  Cecil  became  of  age.  Cecil's 
mother  had  died  previous  to  this,  and  thus  in  accord 
ance  with  Mr.  Glair's  will,  the  handsome,  dashing 
Cecil  came  to  make  his  home  with  the  Deans. 

Mrs.  Dean  received  him  cordially,  and  gave  him  the 
best  room  in  the  house.  She  knew  he  was  the  sole  heir 
to  his  father's  vast  estate,  and  this  alone  was  sufficient 
to  obtain  her  good  will.  However  pure  a  person  might 
be  in  character,  should  he  lack  money  and  a  great  name, 
Mrs,  Dean  would  never  condescend  so  much  as  to 
speak  to  him.  Another  reason  for  Mrs.  Dean's  being 
so  agreeable  to  Cecil  was  that  she  had  an  only  sister— 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  47 

Leita,  whom,  for  a  wonder,  she  idolized.  Leita  was  as 
different  from  Mr*.  Dean,  as  if  they  had  not  been  re 
lated.  She  was  gentle,  retired,  and  possessed  that 
great  element  wanting  in  Mrs.  Dean — the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

Mrs.  Dean  had  made  up  her  mind  to  use  her  influence 
in  bringing  about  a  marriage  between  Cecil  and  Leita, 
but  was  careful  to  guard  her  thoughts  well,  not  permit 
ting  her  husband  to  know  them,  for  well  she  knew  he 
would  say:  "Leave  Cecil  to  marry  whom  he  will. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  do  anything  to  my  friend's 
child,  save  what  is  right  and  honest." 

Mr.  Dean  managed  Cecil's  property  as  Mr.  Clair 
would  have  done;  and  he  dressed  Cecil  as  he  was 
dressed  in  his  father's  lifetime;  he  also  sent  him  to  the 
finest  colleges  in  the  land  when  his  own  children  were 
not  able  to  go,  and  treated  him  far  better  and  allowed 
him  far  more  privileges  than  his  own  children.  Well 
did  Mr.  Clair  know  wiien  he  entrusted  his  son  to  Mr. 
Dean  that  he  would  receive  a  father's  care,  for  he  knew 
him  to  be  a  man  of  deep  convictions,  with  a  pure,  Chris 
tian  heart,  thoroughly  business-like,  and  having  just 
such  principles  as  he  would  like  instilled  in  his  son.  He 
feared,  however,  that  Mr.  Dean  in  his  anxiety  to  do  the 
best  for  Cecil  would  be  too  lenient  with  him  and  spoil 
him.  Cecil  had  visited  many  times  before  the  home  of 
Mr.  Dean,  and  all  had  learned  to  love  him,  so  now  that 
lie  was  to  live  with  Mr.  Dean  it  gave  him  joy.  Well 
did  he  remember  the  little  Myrtle  with  laughing  eyes 
and  fat,  chubby  cheeks,  and  now  when  he  gazed  on  her 
wan  face  with  her  sad  eyes  and  thin,  shadowy  form  he 
wondered  to  himself  if  she  were  the  same  little  Myrtle. 
A  look  of  pity  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  stooped  and 
printed  a  kiss  on  her  sweet  lips,  but  Myrtle,  unaccus 
tomed  to  caresses,  ran  off  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  Had  she  at  last  found  a  friend? 


48  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  A  wrecked  soul,  bruised  with  adversity." 

— Shakespeare. 

How  Mrs.  Waldo  existed  after  the  war  would  be 
hard  to  tell,  for  her  beautiful  home  had  been  destroyed, 
and  there  had  been  left  to  her  only  one  old  blind  mule, 
one  cow,  several  pigs,  a  few  chickens,  and  a  small 
quantity  of  fodder.  Old  Uncle  Jack  plouwed  with 
the  blind  mule,  and  made  enough  to  keep  his  mistress 
from  starving.  Aunt  Finn  cooked  and  churned,  and 
did  the  little  that  was  to  be  done  about  the  cottage. 
Mrs.  Waldo  had  never  been  strong  since  her  illness, 
and  to  add  to  her  sickness  she  grieved  so  much  to  see 
her  children  that  at  times  she  felt  she  would  lose  her 
mind.  Had  she  been  well,  gladly  would  she  have 
walked  the  many  weary  miles  that  separated  her  from 
them,  if  only  to  have  kissed  them  once  again  in  life;  but 
she  was  a  confirmed  invalid,  and  was  scarcely  ever  able 
to  rise  from  her  bed  without  the  assistance  of  Aunt 
Finn. 

She  wrote  to  them — but  what  answer  did  the  poor 
woman  receive  from  her  brothers  and  sisters?  "The 
doctor  says  you  cannot  live  long,  and  when  your  chil 
dren  left  you,  they  thought  you  dying.  You  know 
you  do  nothing  for  them  any  way,  so  let  well  enough 
alone ;  they  think  they  have  no  mother,  and  this  is  true 
in  that  you  are  helpless  to  aid  them.  We  do  not  let 
them  know  you  are  alive,  for  we  know  they  would  be 
dissatisfied  and  want  to  see  you ;  and,  now  if  you  are  a 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  49 

true  mother,  you  will  let  them  alone  while  they  are 
!  nppy.  If  you  had  money  to  provide  for  your  chil 
dren,  it  would  be  quite  different. " 

Ah,  were  these  words  such  as  would  make  a  poor 
invalid  mother  well?  Mrs.  Waldo  could  not  write  to 
,er  friend,  Mrs.  DeLong,  for  she  had  gone  to  Europe, 
ui.d  no  one  knew  her  address.  She  wrote  to  Mr.  Felix, 
bat  1.  er  letters  were  returned  from  the  dead-letter  office. 
SotLo  poor  woman  was  enveloped  in  perplexity,  and 
fou.!:d  darkness  everywhere  she  turned.  There  was  left 
to  1  er,  however,  one  ray  of  sunshine — little  Ulhugh. 
The  child's  love  for  his  mother  was  sweet  and  touch 
ing.  Oh,  could  you  have  seen  Ulhugh's  big,  merry, 
black  eyes;  round,  rosy,  brown  cheeks j  auburn  curls, 
and  the  sweet  smile  that  played  about  the  corners  of 
his  ruby  lips,  with  the  dimples  ever  and  anon  playing 
hide-and-seek  over  his  joyous  face,  you  would  have  un 
consciously  murmured:  "What  a  pity  the  child  is  a 
boy."  Yet  you  could  not  mistake  Ulhugh  for  a  girl. 
Every  line  and  curve  of  his  face,  every  movement  and 
gesture  told  you  he  was  a  boy,  and  verily  the  son  of  a 
noble  father;  a  child  capable  of  impressing  himself  on 
all  about  him.  Look  at  the  little  fellow  now,  with  his 
big  Newfoundland  pet — Vinco.  The  dog  had  been 
accidentally  hurt,  and  the  little  fellow  is  trying  to  tie  a 
string  about  the  injured  foot  of  his  pet.  But  he  has 
not  learned  the  art  of  tying,  and  as  fast  as  he  wraps  the 
string  and  turns  it  loose,  it  drops  off.  All  the  time  the 
little  doctor  talks  encouragingly  to  his  pet. 

"Don't  tie  Binto,  me  is  sorry  ou  is  hurty,  but  me 
will  tie  ou  foot  up,  me  will,"  and  then  the  child  would 
stop  and  hug  his  Vinco. 

The  dog  seemed  to  know  he  had  some  one  to  sympa 
thize  with  him  and  stood  still,  as  if  to  see  how  his  little 
master  would  succeed  in  his  new  profession.  As  fast 


£0  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

as  Ulhugh  would  twist  the  string  and  give  it  a  jerk— 
his  way  of  tying  a  string — the  dog  would  flinch,  and 
the  child  would  stop  to  pet  and  soothe  his  patient ;  so 
at  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  he  was  no  nearer  to  bind 
ing  his  Vinco's  foot  than  when  he  began. 

"Poor  Binto,  I  tellou  what  les  us  do — les  us  do  to  my 
dear  mamma,  she  can  tie  it  widdout  hurtin'  ou,  tause 
my  mamma  tan  do  eny  fing.  Why,  she  tan  des  tiss  it 
and  make  it  well."  With  these  words  Ulhugh  caught 
his  dog  lovingly  around  the  neck — "Turn  on  now 
Binto,  poor  Binto,  I  is  very  sorry  for  ou,  but  me  lubs 
ou,  me  do."  Vinco,  seeming  to  understand  all  that 
was  said  to  him,  hopped  along  as  best  he  could  by  the 
side  of  his  fair  young  master  until  the  little  fellow  led 
his  pet  into  the  presence  of  his  mother.  "Mamma,  I  is 
bingin'  ou  Binto.  He  is  hurt  his  poor  footy,  and  me 
wants  ou  to  tiss  it,  and  make  it  well  des  like  on  do  me 
wen  me  dets  hurt.  Hissed  him  mamma,  but  my  tisses 
don't  chure  him ;  but  ou  sweet  tisses  will  chure  him  in 
a  minute  des  like  dey  do  me." 

The  child  looked  inquiringly  into  his  mother's  face 
as  she  lay  propped  up  in  bed  darning  a  little  blue  ging 
ham  apron  for  her  Ulhugh  to  wear  on  the  morrow.  It 
was  quite  evident  the  little  fellow  thought  his  request 
a  simple  one,  and  that  it  would  be  granted  by  his 
mother,  for  when  had  she  ever  said  nay  to  her  idol? 

"Now,  mamma,  top  ou  sewin'  dest  a  ittle  file,  it  ont 
take  but  dest  a  minute  to  tiss  Binto."  Vinco  hung  his 
head,  as  if  he  knew  his  little  master  was  making  a 
dreadful  mistake,  but  waited  patiently  for  the  outcome 
of  such  grievous  words.  Mrs.  Waldo  put  her  sewing 
from  her,  and  caught  her  darling  in  her  arms  and  cov 
ered  him  with  caresses. 

"Oh,  mamma  dear,  top,  me  is  not  hurt,  it  is  Binto  is 
hurt  wite  here  on  his  foot ;  now  tiss  it  twick,  so  it  tan 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  51 

det  well,"  and  quick  as  thought  the  child  sprang  from 
his  mother's  embrace,  and  held  up  Vinco's  foot  in  his 
little  chubby  hands.  The  face  that  met  Mrs.  Waldo 
was  one  of  troubled  anxiety,  yet  full  of  expectant  hope 
for  the  relief  of  his  pet.  Now  Mrs.  Waldo  had  never 
at  any  time  taken  a  special  delight  in  dogs,  neverthe 
less,  she  was  a  woman  who  could  never  see  the  least 
thing  suffer — not  even  something  she  disliked.  But  as 
she  looked  at  her  child  there  was  a  touch  of  merriment 
in  her  sad  blue  eyes.  "My  boy,  a  nice,  kind  doctor  you 
would  make  and  simple,  sweet  remedies  you  would  use, 
but,  my  darling,  let  me  put  a  little  opodeldoc  on  a  rag, 
and  bind  it  to  Vinco's  foot,  and  it  will  get  well  sooner 
than  if  mamma  kissed  it;"  and  the  mother  began  im 
mediately  to  bind  tenderly  Vinco's  foot.  The  poor  dog 
seemed  very  grateful  for  the  kind  act,  and  tried  to  show 
his  appreciation  as  best  he  could  in  his  mute,  dumb 
way  by  wagging  his  tail  and  rubbing  his  head  against 
Mrs.  Waldo's  hands. 

"Tank  ou,  mamma  dear.  I  is  doin'  to  be  a  dottor 
when  I  dets  to  be  a  big  man,  and  den  I  will  make  ou 
wel,  so  ou  tan  wun  a  wace  wid  me.  A  nice  dottor  I 
is  doin  to  be,  not  a  bad  one;  oh  no,  a  mart  one.  Good- 
by,  mamma  dear,  turn  on  Binto,  ou  is  most  rel  now 
ain't  ou?"  In  another  moment  the  bright,  sunny  face, 
was  gone,  and  the  mother  was  left  to  herself  to  ponder 
over  the  words  of  her  baby  boy — "a  nice  dottor  I  is 
doin'  to  be,  not  a  bad  one;  oh  no,  a  mart  one." 


52  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"The  sad  vicissitude  of  things." — Lawrence  Sterne. 

"And  thus  the  heart  will  break,  yet  broken  live  on." — Byron. 

MRS.  WALDO  was  sitting  in  her  room  busily  en 
gaged  in  curling  the  auburn  hair  of  her  baby  boy  when 
Aunt  Finn  knocked  and  entered.  "Missis,  here  is  a  let 
ter  for  you,  give  to  me  by  one  of  de  neighbors.  He 
said  he  had  jist  bin  to  town,  and  as  hit  was  not  much 
outen  his  way,  he  took  pleasure  in  bringing  it  to  you. 
I  hope  the  Lord  hit  ain't  no  bad  news."  Mrs.  Waldo 
kissed  tenderly  her  little  boy — "Go  play  now  my  darl 
ing;  mamma  has  finished  your  hair,  and  you  look  so 
sweet  and  pretty. "  After  hugging  his  mother,  Ulhugh 
took  his  nurse  by  the  hand  and  together  they  left  the 
room.  Mrs.  Waldo  with  fast  beating  heart,  she  knew 
not  why,  hastily  tore  open  the  letter : 

"PINE  GROVE,  Sept.  1,  18—. 

"MY  DEAR  SISTER:  I  hear  that  instead  of  improv 
ing  you  are  rapidly  declining,  and  that  erelong  your 
course  will  have  been  run  and  your  journey  ended. 
Your  boy,  Ulhugh,  is  now  past  seven,  and  must  be 
badly  in  need  of  a  father,  which  office  it  is  my  duty  to 
fill;  for  you  will  remember  he  is  mine,  having  been 
signed  to  me  by  you  when  he  was  a  baby.  I  hope  you 
will  not  be  chicken-hearted  about  giving  him  up,  but 
will  do  so  without  any  further  trouble. 

"I  am  now  fully  able  to  do  for  him,  and  as  you  are 
sick  and  not  in  condition  to  care  for  him,  and  as  he  will 
have  to  come  to  me  sooner  or  later,  I  think  it  is  better 


THE   IDES  OF  MARCH.  53 

for  me  to  take  him  while  he  is  young  that  I  may  train 
him  correctly.  I  will  send  my  servant  for  him  to 
morrow.  Have  him  ready. 

"Your  fond  brother, 

"A.  D.  DEELY." 

The  letter  fell  from  the  poor  woman's  hands,  and  she 
burst  into  tears.  "Will  they  take  my  last  hope  and 
comfort?  Will  my  trouble  never  cease?"  Ulhugh, 
who  had  come  to  his  mother's  room  to  get  his  ball,  saw 
her  weeping,  and  running  up  to  her  put  his  arms  about 
her  neck. 

"Mamma  dear,  what  is  the  matter?  Have  I  hurt 
your  feelings?" 

"My  darling,  you  have  never  hurt  my  feelings  in 
your  life. ' ' 

"Well,  mamma,  what  is  the  matter,  won't  you  tell 
me?  I  am  the  only  one  you  have  to  tell. "  He  endeav 
ored  as  best  he  could  in  his  childish  way  to  comfort 
her;  yet  his  words  were  like  daggers  to  the  poor 
woman's  heart.  Yes,  he  was  the  "only  one"  she  had, 
and  this  was  why  she  wept.  Mrs.  Waldo  threw  her 
arms  about  her  little  boy's  neck  and  drew  him  closer 
to  her  almost  bleeding  heart. 

"Oh,  that  I  could  always  shield  and  protect  you  my 
darling — but  not  so. ' ' 

"Listen  to  mother,  my  boy,  perhaps  I  can  make  you 
understand,  although  you  are  but  a  child  in  years: 
When  you  were  a  little  baby  in  long  dresses,  Ulhugh, 
your  father  was  called  to  war  and  was  killed,  my  boy. 
Mamma  was  then  taken  sick,  darling,  and  the  doctors 
said  I  had  only  a  few  days  to  live.  I  then  tried  to  find 
homes  for  my  dear  little  children.  I  sent  for  my  broth 
ers  and  sisters  and  two  friends  and  asked  them  if  they 
would  take  care  of  my  children  for  me.  Oh,  darling, 
it  made  mamma  so  sorry  to  give  her  little  jewels  away. 


54  THE  IDES   OF   MARCH. 

All  of  your  brothers  and  sisters  were  taken  away  that 
same  day,  you  only,  my  darling,  was  left,  but  to-day  I 
received  a  letter  from  your  uncle — oh,  my  Father,  give 
me  strength  to  tell  my  boy  all — that  you  would  have  to 
leave  mamma ;  that  to-morrow  he  would  send  a  serv 
ant  for  you.  Oh,  my  precious,  you  know  now  why 
mamma  is  so  sad." 

Ulhugh  listened  in  quietude,  and  when  his  mother 
had  finished  he  only  drew  a  deep  sigh.  Oh !  evil  day 
when  children  sigh !  Seeing  him  so  silent,  the  mother 
drew  him  closer  to  her  breast. 

"Ulhugh,  my  darling,  speak  to  mamma;  tell  her 
you  know  it  was  not  her  fault ;  tell  her  you  know  she 
thought  she  was  going  to  die  and  was  only  trying  to 
find  a  home  for  all  of  you.  My  darling,  mamma  can 
not  last  long  anyway,  and  if  I  should  and  you  staj'ed 
with  me  you  would  always  be  poor,  but  if  you  go  and 
live  with  your  uncle,  you  will  almost  have  a  father. 
He  will  send  you  to  school,  and  you  will  be  a  smart 
man  some  day.  Speak  to  mother,  my  angel  boy.." 

The  child  had  made  several  attempts  to  speak,  but 
his  little  heart  was  too  full,  and  he  looked  down  to  the 
floor  with  the  agony  of  first  sorrow  depicted  on  his 
countenance.  At  last  his  sweet  little  quivering  voice 
whispered:  "Whatever  mamma  does  is  right;  cause 
my  dear,  sweet  mamma  couldn't  do  anything  wrong." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  my  precious  boy,  mother  wouldn't 
take  anything  for  those  words,  my  darling.  I  will 
write  to  you  every  week,  my  jewel,  when  you  are  gone, 
and  will  knit  pretty  socks,  and  when  you  wear  them 
you  will  think  of  mamma — won't  you,  my  boy? 
Mamma  will  pray  for  her  little  boy  each  day,  and  I 
know  your  uncle  will  let  you  come  to  see  me  sometimes, 
my  darling." 

"Yes,  my  sweet  mamma,  I  hope.     Let  me  go  now, 


THE  IDES  OF.  MARCH.  55 

dear  mamma  and  tell  my  poor  doggy  Vinco;  he  will 
be  so  sorry." 

The  child  wished  to  get  by  himself  and  cry,  as  he 
knew  if  his  mother  saw  him  weep,  it  would  only  make 
her  worse.  So  he  ran  to  Vinco  who  was  lying  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps.  "Come,  Vinco,  come."  Then  child 
and  dog  went  to  the  playhouse,  and  Ulhugh  told  Vinco 
all  of  his  troubles,  and  putting  his  head  on  his  pet,  sobbed 
himself  to  sleep.  The  poor  dog  moaned  in  sympathy 
for  his  little  master,  and  seemed  glad  when  he  fell 
asleep.  Mrs.  Waldo  busied  herself  with  packing  her 
darling's  trunk.  Oh,  mother,  God  grant  that  you  may 
never  have  this  task  to  perform.  It  was  like  getting 
her  little  boy's  shroud.  The  little  trunk  was  slowly 
but  surely  packed,  and  not  a  garment  was  folded  that 
did  not  contain  a  mother's  tear.  Some  homemade 
candy,  tea  cakes,  his  favorite  playthings,  and  whatever 
would  be  appreciated  by  a  little  boy  were  packed  away, 
until  at  last  the  sad  task  was  completed.  God  alone 
gave  this  bereaved  mother  strength  to  finish  it.  It  was 
now  dusk,  and  Mrs.  Waldo  called  her  darling  boy  to 
prepare  him  for  bed.  After  the  little  fellow  had  put  on 
his  night  robe,  he  knelt  at  his  mother's  knees,  and  with 
her  hands  resting  gently  on  his  head  said  his  little 
evening  prayer. 

"Now  kiss  me  good-night,  my  sweet  mamma,  and 
come  and  lie  down  and  sing  me  to  sleep  as  you  always 
do;  please  mamma. " 

"Sing?"  thought  the  mother.  "Sing?  when  rny 
heart  is  breaking?  But  yes,  I  can  do  even  this,  as  it 
may  be  his  last  request." 

"What  shall  I  sing,  my  angel?" 

"Sing  'Good -by  to  My  Dear  Old  Southern  Home,' 
and  'Mother  Kissed  Me  in  My  Dreams,' — sing,  please, 
my  sweet  mamma."  The  songs  were  sung  with  a 


56  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

bursting  heart,  yet  with  ,the  melody  of  a  mother's 
evening  song.  The  child  was  soon  wrapped  in  slum 
bers,  and  his  mother  turned  and  truly  kissed  him  in 
his  dreams.  Ulhugh  rested  quietly  that  night,  but 
what  of  the  mother?  It  is  useless  to  say  she  did  not 
sleep,  but  kept  watch  all  night  long  over  the  slumber 
ing  form  of  her — was  he  hers?  no  he  was  hers  no  longer 
— baby  boy.  O  God.  look  in  mercy  and  bring  comfort 
to  a  poor  lonely  mother  and  fatherless  boy. 

The  next  morning,  sure  enough,  a  servant  from  Mr. 
Deely's  came  for  Ulhugh.  It  is  too  sad  to  dwell  on  the 
parting  of  Mrs.  Waldo  and  her  son.  The  mother,  tak 
ing  the  hand  of  her  little  darling,  led  him  into  her 
room,  closed  and  locked  the  door.  Too  sacred  is  this 
moment;  we  will  not  enter,  but  leave  them  with  their 
God. 

After  a  few  minutes  Ulhugh  came  out  alone,  his 
face  sad  and  to  all  appearances  three  years  older  than 
yesterday,  but  not  one  tear  did  he  shed.  His  heart  was 
too  crushed  for  tears.  He  then  went  back  to  his 
mother,  who  was  still  kneeling,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on 
her  white  lips.  "My  sweet  mamma,  be  happy.  I 
won't  forget  you,  and  will  love  you  when  I  am  gone 
and  can't  see  you."  Kissing  his  mother,  the  darling 
boy  went  to  the  door,  yet  he  came  back  again.  "Oh, 
my  darling,  precious  mamma,  how  can  I  leave  you !  but 
the  man  is  calling  me,  and  I  must  go.  Good-by,  good- 
by  for  the  last  time  my  sweet,  sweet  mamma" — an 
other  long,  loving  kiss,  and  the  mother's  darling  angel 
was  gone. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  57 


CHAPTER  XL 

"  I  know  a  bank  where  the  wild  thyme  blows, 
Where  oxlips  and  nodding  violet  grows 
Quite  over-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine, 
With  sweet  musk-roses  and  with  eglantine." 

— Shakespeare. 

CECIL  CLAIR  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  yet  gentle  as  a 
woman;  widely  read,  easy  in  his  bearing,  refined, 
polished,  and  having  just  such  characteristics  as  would 
cause  the  girls  to  fall  in  love  with  him  and  vie  with 
each  other  in  trying  to  entrap  him.  It  was  unnecessary 
that  Mrs.  Dean  should  worry  about  a  marriage  between 
Cecil  and  her  sister,  for  Leita  was  just  the  girl  for  him 
— sweet  and  trusting.  Cecil  had  gone  the  rounds  of 
society  and  had  drunk  the  cup  of  pleasure  so  long  that 
he  was  only  too  glad  to  plunge  into  the  new  and  un 
tried;  hence  he  was  not  long  in  wooing  Leita's  love. 
The  day  of  marriage  was  fixed  and  preparations  for  a 
grand  wedding  were  in  progress ;  the  usual  bustle  and 
stir  made  the  days  go  quickly  by  to  all  in  the  house  ex 
cept  Myrtle.  It  was  a  grand  thing  for  her  that  Mrs. 
Dean  was  so  occupied  in  her  efforts  to  make  the  event 
one  of  splendor  and  elegance,  for  by  this  means  she  was 
neglected,  and  did  not  get  so  many  whippings.  She 
spent  her  time  amusing  herself  as  she  pleased.  Eating 
her  breakfast  in  the  morning  she  would  take  from  the 
table  a  biscuit,  put  it  in  her  pocket,  go  to  the  cistern 
shed,  kiss  her  kitties  good-by,  get  her  bonnet,  and  go 
no  one  cared  where.  She  first  went  to  the  peach  orchard 


58  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

and  filled  her  bonnet  full  of  fruit,  and  then  over  the 
fence  picking  blackberries  from  the  corners.  Thence 
she  followed  a  footpath  which  led  her  to  an  old  lime 
sink.  Picture  to  yourself  a  small  lake,  with  banks 
sloping  gently  to  the  clear  blue  water's  edge,  slippery 
with  the  pine-needles,  blown  from  tall,  waving  trees — a 
mirrowed  basin  sunk  deep  in  the  midst  of  the  forest, 
filled  with  crystal  tears,  which  no  sunny  rays  could  kiss 
awTay.  Then  hear  the  "Bob-white"  of  the  partridge, 
the  bleating  of  the  sheep,  and  the  far-off  tingling  of  the 
cow-bell,  and  you  have  a  faint  idea  of  the  sweet  retreat 
to  which  Myrtle  was  in  the  habit  of  going  in  her  ram 
bles  through  the  woods.  By  and  by,  she  got  her  fish 
ing  line  from  its  hiding  place;  secured  some  worms 
from  a  decaying  log  and  began  trying  her  luck  fishing. 
First  one  perch,  then  another,  and  so  on  until  she  had 
caught  quite  a  string  of  them.  Very  gently  did  she 
take  the  hook  from  their  mouths,  giving  words  of  com 
fort  to  her  aquatic  friends.  Becoming  tired  of  this 
sport,  she  at  last  put  down  her  line,  and  lying  on  the 
grass  looked  up  through  the  trees  to  the  far-away  skies. 
"I  wonder  if  that  white  cloud  is  God,  the  next  biggest 
one  Jesus,  and  all  those  little  ones  his  angels.  I  won 
der  if  I  will  ever  get  to  heaven.  Oh !  to  be  where  Jesus 
is !  to  be  where  some  one  will  love  me !  I  know  they 
say  Jesus  loves  me,  but  I  want  to  be  right  where  he  is. 
so  I  can  put  my  head  on  his  breast  and  feel  his  hands 
on  my  head,  and  to  hear  him  say:  'Myrtle,  poor  little 
child,  you  have  never  had  any  one  to  love  you,  but  you 
have  come  now  to  where  everything  is  love,  and  I  love 
you !'  Oh,  it  seems  to  me  that  if  I  had  somebody  to 
love  me,  I  would  be  so  happy."  Then  Myrtle  heard 
the  birds  in  the  treetops  singing  to  their  mates;  she 
listened  a  moment  and  then  she  too  chimed  with  the 
birds. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  59 

"  Sing,  sweet  bird,  and  chase  my  sorrow, 
Let  me  listen  to  thy  strain, 
From  thy  warblings  I  can  borrow 
That  which  bids  me  hope  again. 

"  Sing,  sweet  bird,  sing,  sweet  bird, 
Let  me  listen  to  thy  strain. 
Ah  !  sing,  sweet  bird, 
Let  me  listen  to  thy  strain." 

Cecil  Glair,  who  was  riding  through  the  woods  at 
this  time  on  his  fine  black  horse,  heard  the  sweet,  melo 
dious  voice,  and  stopping  wondered  what  it  could 
mean. 

"I  must  be  dreaming.  Has  an  angel  taken  up  its 
abode  on  earth?  Is  it  human?  Yes,  and  it  sounds  like  a 
child's  voice,  but  what  child  can  sing  with  so  much  soul 
and  with  such  sweetness?"  Jumping  lightly  from  his 
horse,  and  tying  him  to  an  overhanging  bough,  Cecil 
crept  softly  in  the  direction  of  the  sweet  music,  and 
there  he  saw  Myrtle  lying  on  the  bank.  She  did  not 
see  him  as  he  was  completely  hid  by  the  boughs  of 
the  underbrush.  The  song  had  been  finished,  and 
Myrtle  was  softly  humming.  Intently  her  large  eyes 
peered  into  the  distance  as  if  two  anxious  souls  were 
looking  and  awaiting  for  something  they  knew  they 
would  never  possess.  One  of  the  large  boughs  cracked 
under  Cecil's  foot,  and  frightened  the  child  so  as  to 
cause  her  to  jump  up  and  scream.  "Don't  be  fright 
ened,  little  one,  your  friend  is  near  you."  In  a  mo 
ment,  Cecil  was  by  Myrtle's  side.  She  gave  him  one 
of  those  shy,  honest  looks,  but  said  nothing. 

"Come  and  sit  by  me,  Myrtle.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
I  heard  you  singing  just  now,  and  do  you  know,  you 
have  a  voice  like  an  angel.  Whore  did  you  hear  that 
song?"  Myrtle  looked  around  to  see  if  any  one  was 


60  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

near,  and  then  clasping  her  little  hands  together,  she 
fell  at  his  feet  and  begged  him  not  to  tell  on  her. 
"Tell  what,  my  child?" 

"Why,  that  you  heard  me  sing.  Oh!  brother  Cecil, 
promise  me  that  you  will  never  tell  anyone;  will  you?" 

"Yes,  provided  you  will  come  out  here  in  the  woods 
and  sing  to  me  whenever  I  ask  you ;  and  further — listen 
child,  that  when  I  am  come  to  die,  you  will  sing  me 
into  my  eternal  sleep.  What  do  you  think  of  that, 
little  shy  one?"  She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  met 
his  eager  gaze,  but  quickly  did  he  close  his  eyes  to  con 
ceal  the  innermost  thoughts  of  his  soul.  Myrtle's  face 
wore  a  troubled  look.  Cecil  knew  she  was  timid,  but 
he  would  hear  that  voice  again,  by  what  means  he 
knew  not.  "Don't  look  that  way,  my  child;  brighten 
up,  and  tell  me  where  you  heard  that  song." 

"Brother  Cecil,  is  that  a  song?  I  would  come  out 
here  in  the  woods  and  hear  the  little  birds  sing,  and  I 
would  ask  them  to  sing  to  me.  At  first  they  would  fly 
away,  but  now  they  do  not  mind  me,  and  we  just  sing 
together  until  I  get  tired  and  go  to  sleep.  I  dream,  oh 
such  pretty  dreams.  I  wish  I  could  always  live  here 
with  the  birds  and  fishes;  I  would  be  so  happy." 

"Oh,  that  she  was  older,"  thought  Cecil.  I  wish  I 
were  not  going  to  be  married  next  month,  but  she  is 
only  a  baby  yet. 

"What  would  I  do  for  a  little  girl,  if  you  were  to 
live  here  all  the  time?" 

Her  eyes  sought  his  in  a  questioning  gaze,  and  a  dark 
frown  came  over  her  face.  Wheeling  as  if  to  go,  her 
feet  slipped  on  the  pine-needles,  and  in  another  moment 
poor  little  Myrtle  was  struggling  in  the  old  lime  sink. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  61 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  Her  modest  looks  the  cottage  might  adorn, 
Sweet  as  the  primrose  peeps  beneath  the  thorn." 

— Goldsmith. 

ULHUGH  on  leaving  home  seemed  to  carry  with  him 
all  the  little  remaining  strength  his  mother  possessed, 
for  the  sick  woman  sank  heavily  to  the  floor,  and  Aunt 
Finn  came  in  hastily  and  prepared  her  for  bed,  where 
she  lay  unconscious  many  hours.  At  length  she  grew 
better,  and  some  days  would  sit  in  her  armchair  by  the 
fire,  but  it  always  made  her  worse,  and  she  was  com 
pelled  to  take  her  bed  the  next  day.  Aunt  Finn  was 
ever  faithful  to  her  mistress,  and  seemed  to  anticipate 
and  supply  her  wants.  At  times,  the  neighbors  would 
drop  in  to  see  the  sick  woman,  but  very  seldom,  as  they 
had  their  own  duties  to  perform.  And  it  was  best  that 
it  was  so,  for  Mrs.  Waldo  was  too  weak  to  talk,  and' 
furthermore,  she  shrank  from  seeing  any  one.  The 
neighbors  soon  found  this  out,  and  Mrs.  Waldo  was 
left  almost  alone.  She  busied  herself,  however,  in 
writing  to,  and  knitting  socks  for  Ulhugh.  She  had 
tasked  herself  to  do  a  certain  amount  of  knitting  per 
day,  and  it  was  this  task  alone  that  kept  her  from  los 
ing  her  mind. 

But  what  of  little  Ulhugh  and  the  other  children? 
Three  years  have  passed  since  Ulhugh  bade  his  mother 
good-by.  The  child  was  put  to  the  plow  when  he 
could  scarcely  reach  the  handles,  and  was  compelled  to 
be  up  and  in  the  fields  by  the  time  it  was  light;  and 


62  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

when  his  day's  task  was  finished,  and  after  feeding  his 
mule,  often  did  he  sink  to  sleep  from  pure  exhaustion 
in  the  hay  loft  and  did  not  wake  until  morning.  In 
winter  he  was  cold  and  suffered  from  frost-bitten  feet 
and  hands;  in  summer  he  barely  escaped  sunstrokes. 
One  morning  as  he  came  down  from  his  attic  Mr. 
Deely  met  him  in  the  hall:  "Ulhugh,  go  and  catch  that 
mule  down  in  the  pasture." 

Ulhugh,  knowing  how  vicious  the  mule  was,  hesi 
tated  a  moment.  "Uncle,  I  am  afraid  he  will  kick 
me." 

"Go  and  catch  that  mule,"  roared  Mr.  Deely,  stamp 
ing  his  foot  in  rage;  "who  cares  if  he  does  kick  you?" 

"Oh,"  thought  Ulhugh,  "you  are  a  father  indeed! 
Well  are  you  keeping  your  promise."  And  without 
further  delay  the  boy  went  to  the  pasture  just  beyond 
the  lot,  and  tried  to  carry  out  his  uncle's  instructions. 
He  gave  the  mule  a  good  chase,  and  by  and  by  the 
mule  allowed  him  to  approach  nearer.  Ulhugh,  exult 
ant  over  his  success,  was  about  to  grab  him  by  the  ear, 
when  the  mule  wheeled  suddenly  and  kicked  him, 
knocking  him  senseless  to  the  ground. 

Mr.  Deely,  sitting  near  a  window,  saw  the  whole  pro 
cedure,  and  when  the  field  hands  ran  and  picked  up  the 
unconscious  boy  and  brought  him  to  the  house,  Mr. 
Deely  grew  very  uneasy. 

"What  if  the  child  should  die?  I  would  lose  a 
splendid  investment,  for  he  is  smart,  and  saves  mo  con 
siderable  expense:  then  again,  I  might  be  arrested  for 
ill-treatment."  No  word  of  sympathy  did  he  utter, 
and  his  excitement  was  caused  by  fear  of  losing  a  good 
hand,  and  of  being  arrested.  During  Ulhugh's  illness 
in  his  delirious  state  he  often  spoke  of  his  mother, 
consequently  the  doctor  thought  it  best  to  send  for  Mrs. 
Waldo,  and  held  a  consultation  to  that  effect. 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  63 

While  the  doctors  were  waiting  Ulhugh's  mother  at 
Mr.  Deely's,  a  bride  and  groom  were  asking  permission 
to  remain  over  night  at  Mrs.  Waldo's.  The  preacher 
had  been  necessarily  detained,  which  made  it  too  late 
for  the  3Toung  couple  to  arrive  at  their  destination  that 
night.  The  modest  child-bride  came  into  Mrs.  Waldo's 
room.  She  sat  with  her  head  down.  The  groom  went 
to  look  after  his  horse,  and  Mrs.  Waldo  and  her  daugh 
ter — for  it  was  no  other  than  sweet  Maud — were  left 
alone.  As  soon  as  the  girl  spoke,  Mrs.  Waldo  knew  it 
was  her  child,  but  should  she  make  herself  known? 
Had  not  the  girl  thought  her  dead  for  years?  Should 
she  cloud  her  daughter's  bridal  day?  No,  she  could 
not.  She  would  live  but  a  few  more  days  at  best,  so 
why  tear  open  the  healed  wound?  She  knew  how  to 
suffer,  but  her  darling  daughter,  let  her  be  happy. 

"My  dear,  are  you  not  quite  young  to  marry?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  am  young,  but  it  could  not  be  helped. 
Things  could  not  be  worse  than  they  have  been.  I 
once  had  a  happy  home,  but  it  has  been  so  long  that  I 
have  almost  forgotten. ' '  (Maud  had  not  asked  where  she 
w^as,  and  the  groom  was  so  thankful  for  having  even  a 
humble  cottage  for  his  bride  to  rest  in  that  he  was- too 
happy  to  quiz  any  one.)  "My  dear  father  was  killed  in 
the  war,  and  my  mother,  I  am  told,  signed  away  her 
children  on  her  dying  bed,  thinking  they  would  be  well 
cared  for.  While  she  was  dying  we  were  carried  off, 
and  I  know  not  even  the  spot  where  she  lies  buried. 
Oh,  that  I  might  kiss  the  sod  and  moisten  her  grave 
with  my  tears." 

The  young  girl  brushed  away  the  fast-gathering  tears 
from  her  eyes.  "Thank  God,  mother  is  at  rest,  and 
knows  not  of  the  hardships  through  which  her  children 
are  passing.  My  eldest  brother  Edward  fled  from  the 
cruelty  of  his  uncle  and  went  to  sea.  1  have  one  sister 


Hi  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

in  Europe  and  one  brother  in  Philadelphia;  but  I  do  not 
know  the  address  of  either.  I  had  a  dear  little  afflicted 
brother  Ernest  who  suffered,  oh,  so  much.  How  ten 
derly  my  dear  mother  must  have  watched  him ;  yet, 
he  too  was  torn  from  her,  and  though  sick  and  frail  he 
was  made  to  work  as  if  hale  and  hardy.  Last  week  he 
died,  and  never  shall  I  forget  his  last  dying  words: 
'Mother,  dear  mother,  are  you  waiting  for  your  poor 
sick  boy,  to  rest  his  tired  little  head  on  your  sweet 
breast  just  as  I  used  to  do.  Mother,  I  am  so  tired,  but 
I  soon  shall  rest.  Mother — '  he  tried  to  say  more,  but 
he  was  dead,  yes,  gone  to  be  with  mother  and  father. 
Thank  God  there  is  rest  for  the  weary.  I  also  had  a 
little  baby  brother,  but  I  guess  he  is  dead  too,  for  I 
have  never  heard  anything  of  him.  Forgive  me,  kind 
lady,  that  I  should  have  told  you  these  things,  but 
sometimes  my  mind  gets  burdened  and  it  is  all  I  can 
do  to  restrain  myself.  Will  you  not  kiss  me  to-night 
and  give  me  a  mother's  blessing?  Oh!  for  a  mother's 
hand  to  be  upon  my  head  to-night  and  could  I  hear 
once  more  her  voice,  which  I  am  told  was  so  sweet, 
whispering  'My  darling.'  May  I  not  kneel  at  your 
bedside  and  receive  your  benediction?  Can  you  not 
imagine  you  are  my  mother  and  I  your  child?  I  am 
so  sad  to-night,  when  I  should  be  so  happy. ' ' 

The  sweet  voice  was  hushed;  the  head  was  bowed, 
and  the  poor  sick  woman  placed  her  hands  on  the  golden 
locks  of  the  child-bride.  The  mother's  pathetic  voice 
grew  tender:  "Oh,  Father,  wilt  thou  not  bless  this 
dear,  sweet  girl?  May  she  never  know  what  it  is  to 
suffer  as  did  her  dear  mother.  May  she  be  a  blessing 
to  the  world,  bringing  sunshine  and  happiness  to  all 
about  her;  make  her  a  true, loving  wife;  and  above  all, 
dear  Father,  consecrate  her  to  Thy  service;  take  her  as 
Thy  child,  and  may  she  love  thee  more  and  more  until 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  65 

father,  mother,  sisters  and  brothers  shall  meet  with 
Thee  in  one  unbroken  circle  in  Thy  beautiful  home 
above;  and  Thine  shall  be  the  glory — Amen."  The 
mother  then  imprinted  a  fervent  kiss  upon  the  child's 
fair  brow. 

"Thank  you,  kind  lady,  I  hear  my  husband  calling 
me — good-night ;  I  will  not  disturb  you  in  the  morning, 
as  we  leave  at  daybreak  for  my  husband's  home." 


66  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"All  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell." 

— Byron. 

AFTER  rescuing  Myrtle  from  a  watery  grave,  imag 
ine  if  you  can  the  horrible  feelings  that  came  over  Cecil 
as  she  lay  there  upon  the  bank  to  all  appearances  dead. 
As  he  bent  to  kiss  her  pale  face,  a  sigh  escaped  her  lips, 
her  eyes  opened,  and  Cecil's  heart  bounded  for  joy. 
Never  before  had  he  been  so  happy. 

"Myrtle,  darling,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  recovered. 
Do  you  know,  little  one,  I  could  never  have  lived  had 
you  been  taken  from  me.  Will  you  not  love  mo  just  a 
little  now  that  I  have  saved  you?  Are  you  not  glad?" 

"I  thank  you,  brother  Cecil,  for  your  kindness,  but 
oh,  that  you  had  left  me  to  remain  where  I  was.  My 
life  is  so  sad  that  I  would  rather  die  than  live." 

"Do  not  be  troubled,  little  one.  I  am  to  marry  next 
month  and  I  shall  ask  your  mother  to  give  you  to  me, 
and  we  shall  live  in  the  same  house,  and  you  shall  not 
get  any  more  whippings  then.  How  would  you  like 
that,  my  pet?  I  am  rich,  and  would  make  you  so 
happy." 

"To  be  rich  would  not  make  me  happy,  brother 
Cecil." 

"What  then  would  bring  you  joy,  if  not  wealth?" 

"My  mother's  and  father's  love." 

"Why  would  not  my  love  make  you  happy,  my  little 
one?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  love  you  better  than 
anything  in  the  world?"  He  took  the  child  in  his 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  67 

arms  as  he  spoke,  and  showered  kisses  upon  her  white 
face. 

"Oh,  brother  Cecil — "  the  child  was  becoming 
frightened,  "don't,  please  don't. " 

"Don't  what,  my  little  one?  I  only  kissed  you. 
You  said  you  wished  for  love,  and  you  will  always  have 
love  from  Cecil,  my  darling. ' ' 

The  Gth  of  May,  18 — ,  was  the  date  fixed  for  Cecil's 
marriage,  and  guests  from  afar  had  been  invited  to 
come  and  celebrate  the  occasion.  Mrs.  Dean  thought  it 
unnecessary  to  have  Myrtle  seen,  although  her  sister 
(one  year  older)  was  to  be  dressed  in  the  finest  silk  and 
laces.  Before  the  occasion  Mrs.  Dean  said  to  Myrtle : 
"Myrtle,  if  you  dare  let  any  of  my  guests  see  you,  I 
will  whip  you  for  a  week.  You  have  no  dress  to  wear, 
and  I  am  glad  of  it.  If  I  had  my  way  about  it  you 
should  never  have  any. ' ' 

"Yes,  mother,  I  will  mind  you,"  said  the  poor  little 
forsaken  child. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  will.  I  would  only  be  too  glad  if 
you  would  not,  so  I  could  have  an  excuse  to  punish 
you."  The  haughty  woman  looked  at  the  poor  little 
thing  with  hatred  and  disgust;  Myrtle  only  hung  her 
head  and  left  the  room.  At  the  appointed  time  the 
Dean  mansion  was  beautifully  decorated  with  palms 
and  ferns  and  the  sweet  perfume  rising  from  the  rose, 
lily,  and  jessamine  filled  the  air,  and  caused  one  to 
think  of  a  paradise.  Japanese  lanterns  hung  around 
the  broad  veranda  and  in  the  walks ;  a  string  band  fur 
nished  music  for  the  occasion,  stopping  only  as  the 
minister  performed  the  ceremony  which  made  Cecil 
Clair  and  Leita  Lane  man  and  wife.  The  gayest  of  the 
gay  were  there,  and  truly  everything  went  "as  merry 
as  a  marriage  bell."  The  guests  promenaded,  laughed, 
talked  love,  for  who  could  resist  Cupid  as  everything 
bespoke  love. 


68  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

But  where  was  little  Myrtle  while  every  one  was  en 
joying  the  festivities  of  the  occasion?  Far  away  from 
the  light  of  the  lanterns,  under  the  starlit  sky.  Where 
none  could  see  her,  she  had  stolen  to  where  she  had  her 
self  planted  a  little  garden.  Her  rose  bush  was  covered 
with  white  blossoms — for  it  was  the  bridal  rose  that 
was  in  full  bloom.  "Mamma  will  not  give  me  a  dress, 
but  God  is  good  to  me  and  has  given  me  these  beautiful 
flowers,  and  I  shall  make  me  a  dress  of  roses  and  jessa 
mines,  and  God  and  his  angels  will  see  it  and  think  it 
a  pretty  one;  and  that  big  oak  with  a  hollow  in  it  shall 
be  my  home,  and  I  will  have  pretty  vines  running  all 
over  it  and  pretty  flowers  around  it."  Then  the  child 
hung  the  vines  about  her  shoulders  and  placed  some 
white  roses  in  her  hair — making  a  striking  contrast  to 
her  dark  tresses.  "Well,  I  am  fixed  to  go  to  my  little 
home.  I  am  so  tired,  I  want  to  lie  down  and  rest. " 
The  little  darling  went  over  to  her  house,  and  was  soon 
wrapt  in  slumber. 

"  Here  recline  you,  gentle  maid, 
Sweet  in  this  embowering  shade  ; 
Sweet  the  young,  the  modest  tree, 
Ruffled  by  the  kissing  breeze  ; 
Sweet  the  little  founts  that  weep, 
Lulling  soft  the  maid  to  sleep. 

Cecil  Clair  had  introduced  his  fair  bride  to  some  of 
his  chums,  so  leaving  them  to  entertain  her  he  wrent 
out  in  the  cool  yard.  He  walked  on,  not  caring  where 
he  went,  till  presently  he  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
old  tree  in  which  Myrtle  rested.  As  the  child  slept, 
the  moon  shone  directly  on  her  fair  calm  face.  One 
hand  was  filled  with  jessamines  and  the  other  pressed  a 
pure  white  rose  to  her  heart.  As  he  gazed  at  the  sleep 
ing  beauty,  Cecil  murmured:  "Oh,  that  I  had  the 
child's  picture,  oh,  for  a  Raphael  to— 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  69 

"  Paint  her  pretty  ringlets  playing; 
Silky  locks,  like  tendrils  straying; 
And,  if  painting  hath  the  skill 
To  make  the  spicy  balm  distill, 
Let  every  little  lock  exhale 
A  sigh  of  perfume  on  the  gale 
"Where  her  tresses  curly  flow, 
Sparkles  o'er  the  brow  of  snow. 
Let  her  forehead  beam  the  light, 
Burnished  as  the  ivory  bright. 
Let  the  eyebrows  smoothly  rise, 
In  jetty  arches  o'er  her  eyes, 
Each  a  crescent  gently  gliding, 
Just  commingling,  just  dividing." 

"  She  seems  like  an  angel;  yet,  it  is  my  sweet 
little  Myrtle,  and  what  have  we  here — sweet  jessamines 
and  white  roses — bridal  roses  too?  What  can  the  poor 
little  thing  mean. ' '  Cecil — could  he  tell  why?  then  sat 
down  by  the  sleeping  form;  and  what  passes  through 
his  mind  we  will  let  pass.  At  last  he  stooped  and 
kissed  the  child.  She  was  startled  and  would  have 
screamed  had  she  not  then  heard  that  low  musical  voice 
so  familiar  to  her.  ''Myrtle,  little  one,  do  not  be 
alarmed;  it  is  Cecil.  Why  are  you  here?"  She  only 
hung  her  head,  and  Cecil  continued:  "Will  you  not 
speak,  my  child?  will  you  never  allow  me  to  be  your 
friend?  But  I  know  why.  It  is  some  of  your  mother's 
plans.  Poor  woman,  I  never  saw  any  one  who  could 
think  of  as  many  mean  things.  But  do  not  cry,  my  pet, 
I  am  almost  selfish  enough  to  say  I  am  glad,  for  nevei 
have  I  seen  such  a  sweet  picture  before. "  As  he  spokes 
the  little  head  was  drawn  close  to  his  bosom ;  he  stroked 
her  hair  gently,  and  as  he  did  so  a  thorn  in  the  bridal 
rose  in  her  hair  pricked  his  hand.  Was  it  an  ill  omen? 

Cecil  had  forgotten  he  had  been  married  but  a  few 
hours  ago.  "What  brought  this  child  across  my  path 


70  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

to-night?  Strange,  passing  strange,  she  fascinates  me; 
yes,  more  than  I  like.  I  am  glad  she  is  a  child — be 
cause — because — I  am — am — married. " 

For  the  first  time  Cecil  thought  of  his  wife,  and  then 

,  be  hurriedl}r  kissed  the  child.     "Go  into  the  house,  little 

'one,  you  will  catch  cold  out  here.     Be  happy,  I  love 

you."     In  another  moment,  Cecil  was  with  his  wife. 

The  child  of  the  "Ides"  was  left  alone  and  forsaken. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  71 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Never  morning  wore  to  evening, 
But  some  heart  did  break." 

— Tennyson. 

SOON  after  the  brido  had  left  Mrs.  Waldo's  room  a 
message  was  received  from  Mr.  Deely.  The  doctors 
had  decided  to  send  for  Ulhuglrs  mother,  and  Mr. 
Deely  carrying  out  their  instructions,  hastened  his  serv 
ant  with  a  note  to  Mrs.  Waldo.  "Your  son  is  very 
sick,  but  if  you  come  immediately  his  life  may  yet  be 
saved.  I  send  my  carriage  for  you,  and  as  the  nights 
are  very  pleasant,  you  had  better  come  at  once.  Prove 
your  love  for  your  child  by  making  an  effort  to  respond 
at  once." 

Such  a  message  would  cause  a  mother  to  go  though 
dying.  Although  Mrs.  Waldo  had  been  confined  to 
her  bed  for  months,  she  felt  new  life  come  to  her  when 
she  realized  she  could  see  her  baby  boy. 
•  "What  if  it  should  kill  me;  it  would  only  be  a  few 
days  sooner  entering  upon  my  eternal  rest?  Aunt 
Finn,  dress  me  immediately,  for  I  am  going  to  see  my 
baby  boy,  who,  I  am  afraid,  is  dying.  Oh!  I  would 
willingly  die  could  I  see  him  once  more." 

"Lor,  Misses,  you  ain't  able  to  go.  Please  stay  at 
home." 

"No,  Aunt  Finn,  dress  me.  I  must  go,  and  you 
must  go  with  me,  You  have  always  been  nor»r  rpe, 

<JQ  without  ym<    I  was    w 


72  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

were  not  here  this  evening.  I  will  tell  you  all  another 
time." 

Aunt  Finn  had  gotten  a  negro  girl  to  do  her  work 
around  the  house  that  day  and  had  gone  to  town  on 
business  for  Mrs.  Waldo ;  consequently  did  not  know  of 
the  bride's  arrival.  "Aunt  Finn,  when  you  die  God 
will  certainly  give  you  a  crown  of  glory.  All  of  these 
long  years  since  my  poor  husband  died  you  have  nursed 
and  cared  for  me.  I  will  only  be  here  a  short  while 
now,  and  as  I  might  never  have  another  opportunity  to 
thank  you,  I  do  so  now.  God  has  all  of  the  good  you 
have  done  for  me  written  in  His  book.  He  is  generous 
in  his  rewards.  How  thankful  I  am  that  there  is  a 
God  who  gives  justice  to  all.  You  have  never  forgot 
ten  me ;  neither  will  God  forget  you,  and  may  the  bless 
ings  of  a  poor  sick  woman  ever  go  with  you." 

"Don't  speak  of  it,  Misses.  I  only  thank  the  good 
Lord  dat  I  is  ben  able  to  repay  you  a  little  for  the  good 
you  and  Mosser  has  done  me  all  of  my  life."  By  this 
time  Mrs.  Waldo  was  dressed,  and  after  pillows  had 
been  put  in  the  carriage  to  make  it  as  comfortable  as 
possible,  she  walked  with  the  assistance  of  Aunt  Finn 
to  the  carriage.  As  Aunt  Finn  and  Mrs.  Waldo  started 
off,  Vinco — Ulhugh's  pet — began  to  whine.  This  at 
once  aroused  Aunt  Finn's  superstition.  "For  de  Lord's 
sake,  dog,  do  stop  dat.  I'se  neber  heard  you  do  dat  way 
sepin  trouble  wus  a-comin'." 

Mrs.  Waldo  smiled  sadly  upon  the  old  nurse.  "Oh! 
do  not  say  that,  Aunt  Finn,  but  let  us  hope  for  the 
best."  After  traveling  some  miles,  Mrs.  Waldo 
became  tired,  and  asked  the  driver  to  stop  at  the  next 
dwelling  and  let  her  get  some  water.  The  driver  did 
as  requested,  and  Mrs.  Waldo  spoke  to  a  boy  who 
was  leaning  on  the  gate:  "My  little  boy?  will  you  not 
bring  me  a  dipper  of  water?" 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  73 

"With  pleasure,  ma'am."  Running  into  the  house, 
he  got  a  dipper  of  cool  water,  returned,  took  off  his  hat 
politely  and  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Waldo.  A  large  torch 
was  burning  in  the  yard  so  as  to  attract  the  mosquitoes 
and  candle-flies  and  thus  draw  them  from  the  house; 
by  the  light  of  this  the  sick  woman  was  enabled  to  see 
plainly  the  face  of  the  child.  She  looked  at  him  search- 
ingly,  and  when  she  had  finished  drinking  she  handed 
him  the  dipper : 

"I  thank  you,  my  child.  Excuse  me,  but  why  are 
you  up  so  late  to-night?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  we  are  just  from  Philadelphia;  my 
father  is  not  well,  and  I  am  staying  up  to  give  him 
medicine.  We  just  came  down  on  a  little  business; 
mother  did  not  come.  So  I  am  acting  nurse." 

"What  is  your  name,  my  lad?" 

"Raymond  Felix,  ma'am,  but  please  excuse  me,  I  hear 
father's  bell." 

"Certainly,  my  child;  a  widow's  blessing  and  love 
be  with  you." 

He  tipped  his  hat,  and  was  gone — the  carriage  rolled 
on. 

' '  My  boy !  My  boy !  You  will  never  see  mother  again. 
God  bless  and  keep  you  happy.  Once  I  was  happy 
too,  but  it  has  been  so  long  ago  that  I  sometimes  think 
I  must  have  been  dreaming.  But  soon — yes,  very  soon, 
my  troubles  will  cease.  Oh,  my  God,  help  me  to  wait ; 
be  patient  and  submissive."  She  was  so  fatigued  that 
she  felt  she  would  be  compelled  to  lie  down  for  a  few 
moments,  so  the  driver  was  told  to  stop  at  the  next 
house,  where  Mrs.  Waldo  was  received  graciously,  and 
no  time  was  lost  in  making  her  as  comfortable  as  possi 
ble.  In  the  room  to  which  she  was  shown  were  two 
beds,  one  being  occupied  by  a  beautiful  little  girl. 
Though  'twas  midnight  the  child  was  awake  and  very 


74  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

talkative.  "Oh!  I  thought  you  were  my  dear  mamma. 
Mamma  said  she  was  going  to  see  a  dear  friend  of  hers 
— Mrs.  Waldo — whom  she  thought  had  died  many 
years  ago.  But  we  heard  over  in  Europe  that  she  was 
alive,  and  mamma  would  not  be  satisfied  until  father 
brought  her  to  America  to  see  her.  Then  mamma  said : 
'Edith,  if  it  be  true  that  Mrs.  Waldo  still  lives,  she 
will  love  you  and  you  will  love  her  so  much  that  you 
will  want  to  leave  me  and  live  with  her,  and  it  would 
almost  kill  me  to  give  you  up;'  then  she  cried  and 
hugged  and  kissed  me  until  I  was  almost  smothered. 
Father  does  not  kiss  me  much,  but  I  know  he  loves  me 
for  he  gives  me  everything  I  wish.  Oh !  I  have  such 
funny  dreams  about  kissing,  and  I  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  it.  I  often  dream  that  I  have  another  father 
who  loves  to  kiss  me,  and  he  is  oh,  so  handsome ;  and  I 
dream  I  have  a  poor  beautiful  sick  mother,  from  whom 
I  was  taken ;  and  also  a  poor  little  invalid  brother ;  and 
other  brothers  and  sisters.  When  I  wake  I  find  it  all 
a  dream ;  but  I  dream  the  same  thing  over  and  over, 
and  I  can't  understand  it.  I  tell  mother  and  she  cries 
so  hard  that  I  have  to  stop  for  fear  it  will  make  her 
sick.  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  mamma  would  come  home  so 
I  could  go  to  sleep." 

"Come  and  kiss  me,  my  child;  and  if  you  do  not 
object,  I  will  sing  you  to  sleep." 

"Oh,  I  would  love  to  kiss  you.  You  have  such  a 
sweet  face,  but  it  looks  so  sad  that  I  feel  sorry  for 
you." 

The  child  kissed  Mrs.  Waldo,  and  returned  to  her 
bed.  "Sing  me  a  song  you  used  to  sing  to  your  little 
girl — if  you  ever  had  one." 

Mrs.  Waldo,  brushing  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  sang 
softly  a  s.weet,  plaintive  lullaby--- 


THE   IDES   OF  MARCH.  75 

"  Birds  in  the  night  that  softly  call, 
"Winds  in  the  night  that  strangely  sigh, 
Come  to  me,  help  me  one  and  all, 

And  murmur,  murmur,  murmur,  murmur  baby's  lullaby — 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lullaby. 
While  the  hours  run, 
Fair  may  the  day  be, 
When  night  is  done, 
Life  may  be  sad  for  us  that  wake  ; 
Sleep  little  bird  and  dream  not  why, 
Soon  is  the  sleep,  but  God  can  break. 
When  Angels  whisper,  whisper, 
Angels  whisper  lullaby, 

Lullaby,  lullaby,  lul-la  lul-la  lulla  lulla  lullaby 
Lullaby  baby,  still  the  hours  run. 
Fair  may  the  day  be,  when  the  night  is  done. 
Lullaby,  baby,  while  the  hours  run, 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  lullaby,  lullaby." 

It  was  the  first  lullaby  Viola  had  sung  since  that  last 
night  with  her  baby  boy.  When  she  had  finished, 
Edith  opened  wide  her  blue  eyes.  "Oh!  isn't  it 
strange !  That  is  the  very  song  I  hear  my  mother  sing 
when  I  am  dreaming.  Oh,  it  is  so  sweet.  Please  sing 
it  over  again,  and  I  will  go  to  sleep." 

The  mother  repeated  the  lullaby,  but  ere  she  had 
ended  the  first  verse  the  child's  dark  lashes  fell  over  her 
deep  blue  eyes,  and  little  Edith  was  fast  asleep. 
Mrs.  Waldo  sank  beside  the  child's  bed  and  prayed : 
"Master,  strength,  strength — it  will  soon  be  over." 
She  arose,  kissed  the  child,  then  once  again  for  her 
father  up  in  heaven  who  loved  her  so  much.  This  was 
his  little  pet  and  mischief-maker.  The  child  smiled  in 
her  sleep,  and  Mrs.  Waldo  turned  to  go.  Oh,  how 
often  do  parents  suffer  and  bear  burdens  while  the  chil 
dren  are  light-hearted.  But,  Gracious  Father,  let  the 
little  ou9i3  b§  happy  wl^le  they  can,  for  soon-~$h?  tgg 


76  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 

soon,  will  sorrow  come  to  their  young  hearts.  After 
returning  to  the  carriage,  the  poor  sick  woman  pon 
dered  in  her  mind :  "What  does  it  all  mean?  Surely 
there  is  some  special  providence  connected  with  the 
happenings  of  to-night." 

The  carriage  rumbled  on  and  on,  but  Mrs.  Waldo's 
thoughts  were  of  the  past.  It  was  a  beautiful  night. 
The  moon  was  full  and  shone  brightly.  At  a  turn  of 
the  road,  her  attention  was  drawn  to  an  old  church 
yard.  She  glanced  hurriedly  from  one  tombstone  to  an 
other  until  her  eyes  rested  on  a  newly  made  grave. 
"Oh!  there  is  where  my  poor  little  afflicted  child  lies. 
No  one  has  told  me,  but  I  just  feel  it.  Stop,  stop,  I 
cannot  pass  my  Ernest's  grave.  Yet  he  needed  me 
most  in  life.  In  death  he  needs  me  not.  Driver  go  on 
a  piece,  and  then  come  back  for  me  in  a  few  minutes. 
God  alone  must  see  my  sorrow." 

The  poor  woman  went  over  to  the  newly  made  grave, 
and  as  she  approached  a  fresh  white  rose  which  had 
just  been  placed  there  caught  her  eye.  "Thank  God 
for  one  feeling  heart.  My  God !  My  God !  is  this  my 
Gethsemane?  Pity  me,  Father.  Has  my  poor  afflicted 
Ernest  suffered  all  these  years  without  one  kiss  from 
his  mother?  and  now  that  I  would  press  him  to  my 
bosom  this  cold  clay  hides  him  from  my  embrace.  Oh, 
grave !  give  me  back  my  precious  child,  and  let  him 
know  once  more  a  mother's  love.  Come,  my  child ! 
Mother  will  have  you  even  in  death ;  and  the  poor  fren 
zied  woman  began  digging  the  cold  clay  with  her 
hands.  So  great  was  her  grief  that  she  seemed  for  a 
moment  to  have  lost  her  mind,  and  did  not  notice  a  tall 
youth,  who  was  standing  by  her  side.  She  started  to 
her  feet,  but  he  spoke  in  a  voice  calculated  to  calm  the 
grief -stricken  woman : 

"My  dear  lady,  you  are  mistaken,  this  is  not  your 


THE  IDES   OF   MARCH.  77 

child.  His  mother  died  many  years  ago  and  I  am  his 
eldest  brother.  I  had  hoped  to  relieve  his  suffering, 
but  alas !  too  late !  too  late !  I  found  only  his  little 
mound!  I  could  not  sleep  to-night,  so  I  came  here 
and  placed  this  white  rose  on  his  grave.  It  is  a  very 
small  thing,  but  it  is  enough  to  show  a  brother's  love. 
I  am  heart-broken,  and  I  go,  I  know  not  where.  Since 
the  cruel  war,  in  which  my  father,  Ulhugh  Waldo,  fell 
in  battle,  and  my  dear  mother's  death,  I  have  felt  that 
life  was  not  worth  the  living." 

"Am  I  indeed  speaking  to  my  first  born — my  Ed 
ward?  Oh,  my  God,  it  is  indeed,"  and  the  poor  mother 
threw  her  arms  tightly  about  her  Edward's  neck.  "I 
did  not  die,  my  child,  as  you  thought;  no,  I  have  waited 
all  these  years  to  see  once  more  the  faces  of  my 
darling  children.  I  wrote  to  you  often,  but  you  never 
received  my  letters."  And  then  Mrs.  Waldo  continued 
to  talk  freely  with  her  son,  who  wept  bitterly  as  he 
listened  to  his  mother's  conversation. 

"Dear,  dear  mother,  to  think  of  you  having  been 
alive  all  these  long  years  and  I  knew  it  not.  But 
thank  God  I  have  found  you  at  last.  You  shall  once 
more  know  what  it  is  to  have  home,  love,  and  comfort." 

Edward  drew  his  arms  more  tightly  about  his 
mother's  neck  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  yet  the  poor 
woman  sighed.  "It  is  too  late  my  boy — too  late." 

"What  do  you  mean,  dear  mother?  It  will  never  be 
too  late  for  me  to  prove  my  love  for  you.  My  father's 
blood  is  in  my  veins,  and  I  would  willingly  lay  down 
my  life  for  you." 

"My  son,  a  mother's  love  and  blessing  be  ever  upon 
you.  Forgive  me  for  making  myself  known,  yet  I  hope 
it  is  all  for  the  best.  I  go  to-night  to  see  your  baby 
brother,  Ulhugh,  whom  I  have  reason  to  believe  has 
cruelly  treated  by  his  uncle,  Now  listen,  my  boy, 


78  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

as  soon  as  your  brother  gets  well,  I  want  you  to  go  for 
him,  and  take  him  where  his  uncle  will  never  see  him 
again.  I  know  you  will  treat  him  kindly.  Take  this," 
and  she  pulled  from  her  finger  a  beautiful  diamond 
ring  and  handed  it  to  him.  "Your  father  placed  it  on 
my  hand  on  my  betrothal  day,  and  it  has  never  been 
removed  for  a  moment.  I  go  to  my  child,  but  I  am 
afraid  he  will  be  too  sick  to  know  me.  When  ho  gets 
well,  I  may  be  sleeping  hero  by  the  side  of  your  little 
brother.  Give  my  baby  boy  this  ring  when  he  is 
grown,  and  tell  him  to  read  a  mother's  love  in  each 
sparkling  jewel.  Tell  him  I  wrote  to  him  each  day 
after  he  left  me  and  knitted  pretty  socks,  and  sent  them 
to  him.  Tell  him  how  I  have  longed  to  see  him — as 
well  as  all  my  precious  children.  May  God  forgive 
those  who  have  wronged  me  and  my  children.  Do  not 
forget  Aunt  Finn.  Remember  she  helped  me  when  all 
else  deserted  me,  and  may  God  bless  her  abundantly. 
Take  courage,  my  boy,  and  remember  I  intrust  your 
baby  brother  to  your  care.  Good-by,  my  noble  Edward. 
I  hear  the  carriage  coming ;  I  must  go.  Conceal  your 
self  so  that  your  uncle's  driver  will  not  see  you.  Give 
me  one  fond  embrace  ere  I  go,  my  Edward;"  and  the 
mother  clasped  her  son  to  her  bosom  and  murmured  a 
blessing,  then  stooped  and  kissed  the  little  mound  and 
was  gone. 

After  they  had  started  on  their  journey,  Mrs.  Waldo 
said  to  the  old  nurse:  "Aunt  Finn,  I  have  seen  all  of 
my  children  now,  except  my  baby,  and  I  shall  soon  see 
him.  God  has  been  good  to  me,  and  has  allowed  me  to 
see  them  all  before  I  die." 

"Misses,"  and  Aunt  Finn  sighed  deeply,  "you  are 
sick.  It  is  too  bad,  You  ain't  seed  none  of  your 
chillun." 

"Yes,  Aunt  Finn,  I  have,  I  am  too  sick  tc  tell  you 
all  now,  b\*t  yoii  will  find  out  tlmt<  what  I  say  is 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  79 

"Poor  thing,"  thought  Annt  Finn,  "Let  her  have 
her  own  way  she  is  so  sick  and  don't  know  what  she 
Bays." 

Mrs.  Waldo  felt  as  if  she  would  never  live  to  see  her 
baby  boy,  and  she  prayed  that  God  would  spare  her. 
So  devoutly  was  she  praying  that  she  was  oblivious  of 
all  her  surroundings.  Later  on,  looking  out  of  the  win 
dow,  she  saw  that  she  would  have  only  half  a  mile 
more  to  travel  before  she  would  be  with  her  boy.  Her 
heart  beat  loud  and  fast,  and  she  pictured  to  herself  her 
darling  boy  running  down  the  big  road  to  meet  her, 
with  his  bright  face,  his  beaming  eyes,  his  pretty 
auburn  curls  floating  about  his  pure  lovely  face ;  how 
he  would  hug  and  kiss  and  squeeze  her  around  the  neck 
as  he  cried  for  joy.  Oh!  my  sweet  mamma,  have  you 
come  at  last?  I  am  so  glad  to  see  my  sweet,  sweet  mam 
ma — Mrs.  Waldo's  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the 
carriage  stopping ;  on  looking  from  the  window  the  sick 
woman  saw  she  was  in  front  of  Mr.  Deely's  house. 
"Aunt  Finn,  please  help  me  to  get  out."  A  light  was 
burning  dim  on  the  first  floor.  As  Mrs.  Waldo  went 
up  the  steps,  she  was  met  by  one  of  the  doctors.  "This 
is  the  little  boy's  mother,  I  presume.  I  am  glad, 
madam,  you  have  come ;  we  are  trying  to  hope  for  the 
best.  Walk  in  this  way,  but  please  calm  yourself,  and 
'<>  not  give  way  to  your  feelings,  for  you  will  make 

>  little  boy  worse." 

'Thank  you,  doctor,  I  will  not  disturb  my  darling. 

only  ask  to  see  my  precious  boy  once  more  in  life. 
.Jany  years  have  I  studied  endurance,  doctor,  fortitude 
will  not  fail  me  now  when  it  is  most  needed." 

The  doctor  led  the  way  to  the  sick  chamber,  followed 
by  Mrs.  Waldo  and  Aunt  Finn.  The  room  was  fur 
nished  with  plain  mahogany  furniture.  In  one  of  the 
large  armchairs  sat  Mr.  Deely  fast  asleep. 


80  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

Sitting  around  in  groups  were  some  neighbors,  who 
had  come  to  sit  up  with  the  child,  hut  were  busy  gos 
siping;  and  had  you  listened  carefully  you  might  have 
caught  their  conversation  even  if  it  was  spoken  in  a 
whisper:  "It  will  go  hard  with  Deely  if  the  child 
should  die.  It  is  strange  his  mother  should  have  given 
him  up.  Catch  me  giving  up  my  children  for  other 
folks  to  beat  and  cuff  around." 

Mrs.  Waldo  came  in  about  this  time,  heard  the  gos 
siping  women,  yet  so  intent  ws  she  on  seeing  her  baby 
boy  she  seemed  not  to  observe  them.  The  mother  drew 
near  the  bed,  and  by  the  light  of  the  dimly  burning 
candle  saw  her  precious  child.  His  dear  little  face  was 
twice  its  natural  size ;  and  as  Mrs.  Waldo  gazed  on  the 
sleeping  form,  her  face  twitched,  and  she  asked  herself 
"surely  is  this  my  beautiful  little  boy  who  was  carried 
away  from  his  mamma?  and  could  you  have  seen  that 
poor  mother's  face,  with  the  anguish  of  former  years 
and  present  grief  painted  upon  it,  the  sight  would  have 
caused  you  to  grow  sick  at  heart.  But  gradually  the 
cloud  passed  away  and  a  radiance  settled  upon  the 
mother's  sweet  face,  causing  all  in  the  room  to  arise  to 
their  feet  and  stand  still  as  if  struck  with  awe.  The 
mother  stooped  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  the  bandaged 
forehead  of  her  little  boy,  and  as  she  did  so  the  little 
fellow  moved,  and  in  his  delirium  sang  sweetly  one 
line  of  the  last  song  his  mother  had  sung  to  him — 
"Mother  Kissed  Me  in  My  Dreams." 

Mrs.  Waldo  knelt  beside  the  bed  of  her  precious  boy, 
and  took  his  dear  little  hand  in  hers.  The  mother  then 
bowed  her  head  as  if  in  prayer.  The  room  was  deathly 
silent  and  naught  could  be  heard  save  the  ticking  of 
the  old  clock  on  the  mantel.  The  candle  flickered  for  a 
moment,  then  went  out — Viola  Waldo  was  dead. 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  81 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Ah,  Christ  that  it  was  possible, 
For  one  short  hour  to  see 
The  souls  we  love,  that  they  might  tell  us 
What  and  where  they  be." 

— Tennyson. 

MRS.  WALDO  was  buried  beside  the  little  grave  she 
had  wept  over  so  bitterly  a  few  nights  since.  All  of 
her  children,  excepting  her  youngest  boy,  were  present 
at  her  funeral,  but  only  one  of  them  knew  a  mother 
was  being  laid  to  rest.  Edward,  the  eldest  son — a  tall, 
handsome  youth,  stood  apart  from  the  sad  crowd.  His 
hat  was  pulled  down  over  his  face,  as  if  to  shade  it 
from  the  evening  sun,  but  in  reality  he  wished  to  con 
ceal  his  features  from  those  about  him.  "Merciful 
Father,  to  think  I  might  have  been  with  my  precious 
mother  for  all  these  years,  and  yet  did  not  know  she 
lived !  How  she  must  have  longed  to  see  her  children. 
She  has  indeed  died  of  grief.  Yet  if  it  be  too  late  to 
help  my  dear  mother,  I  will  carry  out  her  dying  request 
— to  take  care  of  little  brother  Ulhugh." 

Shovel  after  shovel  of  damp  clay  fell  with  a  sicken 
ing  thud  upon  the  coffin  of  the  dead  woman.  The 
bridal  couple  that  had  spent  the  eight  at  Mrs.  Waldo's 
were  now  taking  a  drive  for  pleasure  and  pastime,  but 
they  were  prevented  from  going  on  their  way  by  the 
vehicles  of  the  funeral  procession.  As  the  bride  waited, 
she  saw  an  old  negro  standing  near  by.  "Old  man, 
will  you  please  tell  me  who  it  is  that  is  dead?" 


82  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

"I  am  sorry  Missis,  but  I  can't  'call  do  name.  Sho 
don't  lib  here.  I  hear  .say  she  bin  sick  a  long  time,  and 
dat  she  wus  a  mighty  good  woman — de  Lord  be  praised, 
her  soul  is  gone  to  glory." 

"Thank  you,  old  man." 

Then  the  young  bride  turned  to  her  husband.  ' '  Can't 
we  possibly  get  by;  every  one  is  staring  at  me — this 
bright  dress  and  gay  plumes  are  not  very  appropriate 
for  a  funeral. ' '  And  thus  sweet  Maud  passed  by  her 
mother's  grave.  Ah,  facts,  stern,  sad  facts,  how  often 
in  this  life  of  ours  they  become  stranger  than  idle  fic 
tion! 

The  grave  having  been  filled  with  the  damp  earth, 
was  now  shaped  into  a  low  mound,  and  a  wooden  slab 
marked  the  head  of  the  peaceful  sleeper. 

"Mamma,"  whispered  Edith  DeLong,  "I  feel  so  sorry 
for  this  poor  woman,  may  I  put  these  flowers  on  her 
grave?" 

"Yes,  my  darling,  it  will  more  than  please  me,  for 
this  sweet  woman  was  the  best  friend  I  had  when  1  was 
a  little  girl  at  school." 

"My  boy,"  said  Mr.  Felix  to  Raj^mond,  "take  these 
flowers  and  go  and  place  them  on  the  grave  of  one  of 
the  best  women  that  ever  lived  in  this  sorrowful  world. ' ' 
Strange  and  sad,  Raymond  Felix  and  Edith  DeLong 
bent  and  scattered  flowers  over  the  dark  sod,  but  knew 
not  it  was  their  mother's  grave.  Unconsciously  the 
two  gazed  at  each  other.  It  was  only  for  a  second — 
yet  ever  after  would  the  handsome  boy  remember  the 
dark  violet  orbs  of  that  sweet  little  girl.  What  made 
Edith  and  Raymond  sigh  deeply  when  they  both  turned 
to  leave  the  newly  made  grave?  "Oh,  those  beautiful 
children,"  murmured  several  in  the  crowd,  "I  wonder 
who  they  can  he,  they  look  like  brother  and  sister." 
The  sun  was  dipping  low  in  the  west,  and  all  who 


THE   IDES  OP  MARCH.  83 

attended  the  funeral  had  returned  to  their  several 
homes  save  one  true  soul.  Old  "Aunt  Finn  with  the 
tears  streaming  from  her  honest  eyes  stood  by  the 
grave  of  her  mistress.  "Oh,  Misses,  is  you  gone 
and  lef  me,  but  I  would  not  call  you  back  to  dis 
world  of  sin  and  trouble,  but  me  do  thank  de  Lord 
dat  you  is  gone  to  rest  in  de  bosom  of  de  Lord — for 
oh,  Missis,  you  do  needs  rest,  rest.  I  loves  you  Misses 
and  dats  why  I  want  to  see  you  happy.  ,It  did  most 
kill  me  to  see  you  suffer,  but  it  is  all  ended  now 
— oh,  thank  de  Lord  you  is  in  glory.  No  more 
pain  can  come  to  you,  thank  de  Lord.  You  is  in  glory, 
and  I'se  gwine  to  strive  to  meet  you  dar,  thank  de  Lord 
you  is  in  glory."  The  old  woman  repeated  these  words 
with  a  monotonous  moan,  turning  her  head  from  side 
to  side  to  keep  time  with  the  melancholy  dirge,  and 
ever  and  anon  her  checked  homespun  apron  went  to 
her  eyes  to  wipe  away  the  big  tears  that  coursed  down 
her  furrowed  face. 

"My  good  old  woman,"  and  Edward  Waldo  drew 
near  to  Aunt  Finn,  "I  know  who  you  are,  mother  told 
me  here  a  few  nights  ago  how  kind  you  had  been  to 
her.  I  thank  you  for  all  you  have  done,  and  God  will 
abundantly  bless  you.  Do  you  not  know  me,  Aunt 
Finn?  I  am  Edward,  your  mistress'  eldest  son." 

"Is  you  Marse  Edward?"  and  the  old  woman  gazed 
intently  into  the  lad's  face.  "De  Lord  be  praised,  I 
surely  tink  you  is. ' ' 

"Aunt  Finn,  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,"  continued 
Edward.  "My  poor  mother  is  dead!  At  last  she  rests 
in  peace.  Had  I  known  she  lived,  I  would  gladly  have 
given  my  life  for  her  happiness,  but  alas,  she  does  not 
need  my  aid  now.  If,  however,  I  cannot  work  for 
mother,  I  will  help  one  whom  she  wished  me  to  pro 
tect.  I  speak  of  my  baby  brother,  Ulhugh.  To  you, 


84  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

Aunt  Finn,  am  I  looking  for  help  in  gaining  possession 
of  my  little  brother.  The  child  knows  you,  and  loves 
you,  and  will  do  what  you  request  of  him.  My 
mother's  last  words  were  to  take  and  protect  my  brother 
from  the  man  who  so  falsely  broke  his  oath. ' ' 

"I  do  see,  Marse  Edward,  you  shall  hab  dat  child 
soon  as  he  is  well  enough.  Over  Misses  grave,  I]  do 
tell  you  I'se  gwine  to  do  all  I  can  for  ebery  child  of 
hers;  bless  her  pure  soul." 

"I  trust  you,  Aunt  Finn.  To-morrow  meet  me  at 
the  big  tree  where  the  roads  cross,  and  let  me  know 
more  of  my  little  brother. ' ' 

It  was  growing  late,  the  stars  were  coming  out  one 
by  one,  flecking  the  heavens  with  their  beauteous  glorjT. 
Yet  the  old  woman  and  lad  lingered  about  the  lonely 
grave.  "I  must  pray,  Marse  Edward.  When  I'se 
burdened,  I  does  pray."  And  in  another  moment  the 
dear  old  soul  sank  on  her  knees  beside  her  mistress' 
grave.  Never  in  after  years  did  Edward  Waldo  forget 
Aunt  Finn's  prayer.  It  is  impossible  to  repeat  it  here, 
for  who  could  paint  those  broken  sobs  that  did  accom 
pany  each  word  so  full  of  pathos  and  sorrow. 

"I  can  go  now,  Marse  Edward,  de  Lord  will  sustain 
me.  'I  called  upon  Him  in  my  distress,  and  He  heard 
me.'" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Finn,  your  prayer  has  helped  me  also. 
The  Lord  that  has  ever  been  with  you,  the  Lord  that  my 
mother  trusted,  her  son  will  also  trust, ' '  and  as  the  old 
woman  and  youth  talked  thej~  walked  slowly  and  sadly 
away  from  that  lonely  grave. 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  85 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"A  Heaven  on  earth." 

— Milton. 

IT  is  not  necessary  to  speak  of  the  difficulties  that 
seemed  to  beset  Edward  Waldo  as  he  tried  to  gain 
possession  of  his  little  brother  Ulhugh.  Through  much 
perseverance  and  with  the  help  of  faithful  Aunt  Finn, 
Ulhugh  was  eventually  enfolded  in  his  big  brother's 
arms.  Very  tenderly  did  the  older  brother  tell  the 
younger  of  dear  mother's  death. 

"It  is  very  sad,  little  brother,  but  as  sweet  mother 
suffered  so  much  on  earth,  let  us  be  glad  that  she  can 
rest  in  heaven — where  there  is  no  more  pain  nor  sick 
ness.  I  will  be  good  and  kind  to  you,  little  brother, 
and  never  shall  you  want  for  anything  while  I  live." 
Edward  bent  and  kissed  the  child,  who  had  already 
begun  to  love  his  big  brother.  What  of  that  last  sad 
visit  to  mother's  grave — what  feelings  came  to  the 
mind  of  the  eldest  and  youngest  child?  But  let  it  pass 
—let  it  pass ;  life  is  so  full  of  sadness — will  there  never 
be  some  gladness?  must  our  hearts  be  ever  crushed? 
ah,  let  it  pass — let  it  pass.  Soon  the  day  will  cast  out 
darkness — let  it  pass,  let  it  pass." 

The  two  brothers  went  to  the  old  home  to  see  it  once 
more,  and  there  they  told  their  faithful  old  nurse  good- 
by.  Edward  divided  the  scanty  contents  of  his  purse 
with  Aunt  Finn,  but  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
he  succeeded  in  getting  the  old  soul  to  accept  a  penny 


86  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

from  his  hands.  *  'We  are  going  to  Florida,  nurse  and 
just  as  soon  as  I  make  money  enough  to  buy  us  a  little 
home,  we  shall  come  back  and  take  you  if  you  will  go 
with  us.  Would  you  not  like  to  cook  for  us.  Come 
cheer  up,  nursey,  what  say  you?" 

The  good  old  nurse  brushed  away  the  big  tears  as  she 
in  a  choking  voice  tried  to  answer  her  young  master. 
"Lar,  Marse  Edward,  I  would  follow  you  and  dat  baby 
dar  to  de  end  ob  de  world.  Go,  honey,  and  git  settled, 
and  den  come  back  for  old  black  mammy,  and  de  Lord 
be  wid  yer,  and  take  care  ob  yer ;  and  trust  Him,  my 
chilun,  for  He  is  yer  best  friend. ' '  It  was  very  hard 
for  the  two  brothers  to  leave  the  good  old  nurse,  but 
they  must  be  turning  their  eyes  toward  the  land  of 
flowers. 

As  soon  as  Edward  arrived  in  Florida,  ho  rented  a 
small  room  which  had  been  used  for  packing  oranges. 
"It  is  a  poor  home  I  bring  you  to,  little  brother,  but  it 
is  rich  in  love,  and  if  you  will  be  patient  I  will  have  a 
big  home  for  you  some  day."  Edward  now  felt  he  had 
something  to  live  for,  and  his  warm  heart  overflowed 
with  tender  sympathy  for  his  lonely  brother.  How 
often  he  would  catch  the  child  in  his  strong  arms, 
throw  him  on  his  back  and  ride  him  all  around  the 
room,  at  the  same  time  whistling  a  merry  tune  to  his 
little  charge.  Ulhugh  tried  to  prove  his  happiness  to 
his  brother,  for  his  joy  was  indeed  great,  yet  the  child 
knew  not  how  to  be  demonstrative;  but  could  you  have 
seen  the  love  in  his  earnest  eyes,  you  would  have  read 
the  deep  gratitude  of  the  little  fellow's  soul. 

"Why  do  you  look  so  serious,  little  brother,  are  you 
sorry  I  stole  you  from  uncle?" 

"Oh,  no,  dear  brother,  I  was  only  thinking  if  I  could 
tell  you  in  words  how  kind  you  are  to  me." 

"Well,  if  that  is  all,  little  brother,  do  not  try  to  tell 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  8? 

me.  But  while  we  talk  let  us  go  and  look  at  this  lovely 
orange  grove.  Now  this  grove  is  about  twenty- 
years  old;  the  trees  are  seedlings  and  are  much  more 
beautiful  than  those  that  are  budded.  Look,  brother ! 
oh,  look !  as  far  as  your  eyes  can  see,  turn  them  where 
you  will  from  one  beauteous  avenue  to  another,  still 
they  behold  surpassing  loveliness;  and  the  leaves  of  the 
many  trees  so  closely  caress  each  other  as  they  are 
thrown  lightly  together  by  the  gentle  zephyr  that  you 
mistake  them  for  the  children  of  one  mother  trunk. 
The  golden  fruit  hangs  here,  and  there,  and  every 
where,  as  if  to  say,  eat  little  brother,  and  be  happy; 
and  as  the  sunlight  comes  and  steals  kisses  from  the 
oranges  they  seem  to  blush  beneath  his  fervent  touch 
and  would  fain  cover  their  burnished  faces  under  sweet 
scented  blossoms  and  verdant  leaves.  See,  little 
brother,  the  gorgeous  butterfly,  and  hear  the  low  hum 
of  the  busy  bee,  as  she  flies  from  flower  to  flowrer  to  sip 
her  favorite  sweet.  And  here  is  a  lake,  and  there  is 
one,  and  over  yonder  is  another — look  where  you  will, 
you  find  a  crystal  basin  mirroring  upon  its  surface  the 
cerulean  sky.  Facing  us  is  the  high  bluff,  and  below 
in  the  far  distance  is  the  blue  lake,  where  children  play 
upon  its  shores  in  the  white  sand,  and  ever  and  anon 
dip  their  little  brown  feet  in  the  silvery  waves,  or 
amuse  themselves  by  building  frog  houses,  catching 
minnows,  and  making  merry  all  the  day  long.  And 
now  steals  upon  us  the  cooling  zephyrs,  wafting  to  our 
senses  the  sweet  perfume  of  orange  blossoms.  Little 
brother,  where  are  we?  I  feel  we  must  be  in  Eden,  for 
I  am  so  happy.  Oh,  that  my  pent-up  soul  might  burst 
forth  into  poetic  song !  This  must  be  the  land  of  love, 
for  I  could  hate  no  one  here;  all  that  have  done  me 
harm,  I  freely  forgive." 

Edward  and  Ulhugh  had  talked  long;  the  evening 


88  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

shadows  were  deepening  about  them ;  the  blazing  sim 
seemed  to  have  found  a  resting  place  at  the  other  end 
of  the  lake ;  the  gloaming  deepens — by  far  the  sweetest 
time  of  all  the  day,  but  it  passes  as  all  things  else  mubt 
pass ;  and  the  stars  begin  to  peep  one  by  one,  until  the 
heaven  is  flecked  with  their  radiant  glory ;  the  silvery 
moon  rises  slowly,  until  high .  in  the  heavens  its  shim 
mering  light  is  thrown  o'er  placid  lake  and  sweet 
orange-scented  groves.  ' '  Hush !  hark,  little  brother,  I 
hear  a  party  of  lads  and  lassies  singing,  keeping  time 
with  the  dipping  oars. ' ' 

"'TIS  ilOONLIGHT  ON  THE  LAKE." 

• 

"  Come  away,  come  away, 
Oh  !  come  where  the  silv'ry  waves  break, 
Oh  !  come,  oh  !  come. 
There's  moonlight  on  the  lake, 
There's  moonlight  on  the  lake, 
The  sun  has  gone  to  rest, 
The  birds  have  call'd  their  lov'd  ; 
Have  call'd  their  lov'd  ones  to  rest." 

"Oh,  how  rapturous  the  sound  as  by  gentle  winds 
the  sweet  strains  are  wafted  to  us  o'er  the  rippling 
waves.  But,  my  little  brother,  it  is  time  you  were  in 
your  cozy  bed  dreaming;  let  us  away  from  this  en 
chanted  spot."  Soon  the  two  brothers  had  gained  their 
sweet  retreat.  "Ulhugh,  my  boy,  give  me  the  sacred 
Bible  that  mother  loved.  Her  God  shall  be  our  God. 
Let  us  read  the  twenty- third  Psalm;  now  give  me 
your  hand,  little  brother,  while  we  kneel  and  give 
thanks  to  the  Lord  for  all  His  loving  kindness  and  ten 
der  mercies.  And  now  good-night,  little  brother,  holy 
angels  guard  thy  bed." 

As  the  moon  beamed  through  the  window  of  the 
small  room  that  night,  little  Ulhugh' s  head  rested 
peacefully  on  his  big  brother's  arm.  Oh,  the  love 


THE   IDES  OF  MARCH.  89 

that  dwelleth  in  the  heart  of  brothers  is  great  indeed, 
or  it  would  not  have  been  said,  "There  is  one  that 
sticketh  closer  than  a  brother." 

Oh,  Florida,  Florida,  what  of  thee?  Land  of  flow 
ers  ;  land  of  poetry ;  land  of  sweet  dreams — long  may 
you  gladden  the  hearts  of  the  many  thousands  who 
come  to  thee  for  rest,  sweet  rest.  Thy  children  come 
to  thee  for  labor  ended.  Tired  brains,  poring  over 
books,  find  forgetf ulness  in  thee.  The  sick  and  afflicted, 
chilled  and  frozen  by  Northern  climes  find  in  thee  a 
sunny  smile.  Still  modest  thou  art  and  retiring;  yet 
many  there  are  who  shall  rise  up  and  call  thee  blessed, 
oh,  thou  Florida,  peaceful  land  of  loveliness ! 

"  If  God  hath  made  the  world  so  fair, 

Where  sin  and  death  abound, 
How  beautiful  beyond  compare, 
Will  paradise  be  found." 


90  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XVil. 

"  Affliction's  sons  are  brothers  in  distress — 
A  brother  to  relieve,  how  exquisite  the  bliss." 

— Burns. 

EDWARD  was  preparing  the  morning  meal,  for  he 
had  learned  to  do  everything  necessary  for  the  comfort 
of  his  small  household.  The  little  room  appeared  clean 
and  bright.  One  glance  was  sufficient  to  take  in  its 
meager  furnishings — a  plain  pine  bed,  several  wooden 
chairs,  and  a  small  stove  that  was  used  for  both  heat 
ing  and  cooking.  The  floor  had  no  carpet  on  it,  yet  it 
was  spotless.  How  it  could  be  kept  so  clean  used  as  a 
cooking  room  was  indeed  a  mystery.  A  small  shelf 
held  the  most  sacred  treasure  in  the  room — "Mother's 
Bible."  On  the  widow-sill  was  a  box  filled  with  beau 
tiful  bright  geraniums,  planted  and  tended  by  Ullmgh. 

Where  was  the  little  lad  this  morning?  He  had  gone 
to  fill  a  tin  can  with  water — brother  Edward  not  being 
able  to  buy  a  water  bucket.  Coming  in  a  few  minutes 
later  with  his  little  face  all  aglow  he  exclaimed  ex 
citedly:  "Oh,  brother  Edward,  I  have  some  news;  guess 
quick  what  it  is." 

"Well,  little  brother,  as  soon  as  I  turn  over  these 
nice  brown  batter-cakes,  I  will  try  to  think  what  news 
you  have.  It  must  be  something  very  good,  for  you 
look  very  happy.  Well,  well,  our  little  village  is  not 
much  given  to  gossip,  every  person  seems  to  go  on  with 
his  work  harming  no  one,  and  wishing  good  to  all ;  let 
me  see — what,  what  can — it — be?" 


THE   IDES  OF  MARCH.  91 

"Oh,  brother  Edward,  you  take  too  long  to  guess,  I 
cannot  keep  it  any  longer — why  it  is  this,  some  big, 
rich  man  from  another  state,  I  believe  his  name  is  Cecil 
Clair,  has  bought  that  beautiful  mansion  which  you 
know  has  been  closed  so  long,  and  has  hired  servants 
to  clean  it  up.  I  hear  they  have  been  busy  for  days, 
and  I  do  not  see  why  we  did  not  find  it  out  before  and 
what  is  more,  the  big,  rich  man  is  coming  to-day  with 
his  pretty  young  wife  and  little  sister,  and  it  is  most 
time  for  the  train.  Let  us  eat  our  breakfast  in  a  hurry 
and  go  to  the  train  and  see  if  they  are  coming  sure 
enough,  for  I  want  to  get  a  peep  at  them." 

"Why,  little  brother,  are  you  excited?  These  people 
are  like  every  one  else.  Why  do  you  wish  to  see  them? 
Surely  not  because  they  are  rich;  wealth  is  a  great 
tiling,  it  is  true,  but  better  far  is  a  good  name  backed 
by  honesty,  integrity,  sobriety,  and  a  spotless  character. 
Yes,  these  in  life  are  better  than  money.  But  if  my 
little  brother  wishes  to  go  to  the  train,  he  shall  go,  and 
I  believe  you  have  gotten  my  curiosity  aroused  so  that 
•I  too  wish  to  see  these  persons  in  whom  you  are  taking 
so  much  interest." 

Edward  took  his  little  brother  and  held  him  high 
above  his  head,  as  was  customary  when  he  wished  to 
show  special  demonstrations  of  love,  but  the  latter 
caught  his  big  brother  about  the  neck  and  was  not 
ashamed  to  almost  smother  him  with  kisses.  Oh,  joy, 
ous  day;  oh,  blissful  day.  The  two  brothers  hastily 
ate  their  scanty  meal,  and  then  put  the  little  room  in 
order.  "We  shall  have  ample  time,  if  we  walk  some 
what  briskly,"  and  the  brothers  went  on  their  way  mer 
rily  chatting  together,  until  they  came  to  the  station. 
The  train  was  a  few  minutes  late,  but  this  was  well, 
for  the  two  were  quite  ready  to  rest  a  little  after 
their  hurried  walk.  As  they  waited,  they  sat  on  an 


92  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

old  goods  box,  Edward  sitting  close  to  his  little  brother 
holding  his  hand.  The  train  blew-shrilly  in  the  dis 
tance.  Ulhugh  unconsciously  straightened  himself  and 
passing  his  hand  through  his  wavy  locks  smoothed 
them  over  his  fine  brow.  Edward  noticed  Ulhugh's 
movements  and  smiled.  In  a  moment  the  train  stopped, 
and  as  the  poeple  crowded  forth,  Ulhugh  leaned  for 
ward  that  he  might  see  better,  for  he  felt  he  had  not  as 
yet  caught  sight  of  the  right  persons.  At  this  moment 
Cecil  stepped  from  the  coach  accompanied  by  his  beau 
tiful  wife  and  little  Myrtle.  Cecil  saw  the  two  broth 
ers  as  he  hastily  passed  by — he  generally  took  in  every 
thing;  Leita  observed  nothing,  she  only  followed  her 
husband.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  Myrtle  looked  up 
just  as  she  came  in  front  of  Edward  and  Ulhugh,  and 
the  child  seemed  to  stop  unconsciously  as  she  cast  her 
dark,  sad  eyes  upon  U.lhugh — of  course,  it  was  only  a 
coincidence,  and  lasted  not  a  second,  but  it  was  enough 
to  make  Ulhugh  catch  hold  of  his  brother  as  he  drew  a 
deep  breath.  Yes — 

"  Young  eyes  will  meet  young  eyes, 
Young  hearts  will  greet  young  hearts." 

A  short  time  intervened,  and  all  was  quiet  at  the  lit 
tle  way  station.  Only  the  brothers  had  remained; 
neither  had  spoken  for  a  long  time,  each  seemed 
wrapped  in  his  own  meditations.  At  last,  Ullnigh 
broke  the  silence — "I  say,  brother,  what  do  you  think 
of  them?" 

"Well,  I  do  not  like  to  say,  little  brother,  but  my 
opinion  of  that  man  is  that  being  exceedingly  hand 
some  and  immensely  wealthy  he  has  been  greatly 
petted  and  spoiled.  He  is  impulsive,  and  might  some 
day  do  that  which  he  would  regret  all  the  days  of  his  life. 
I  believe  he  is  good  at  heart,  but  if  he  ever  siiouiu  ];} 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  93 

tempted  to  sin,  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  resist.  The 
only  thing  that  would  save  him  would  be  some  one  of 
a  stronger  character  to  show  him  the  error  of  his  way ; 
and  while  his  wife  is  sweet  and  beautiful,  she  is  not  the 
woman  to  make  a  man  such  as  he  is  happy.  But  }Tou 
are  a  little  fellow,  I  should  not  talk  to  you  in  this  way, 
and  I  did  wrong  to  form  my  opinion  before  becoming 
personally  acquainted  with  the  gentleman,  because 
'hasty  conclusions'  are  a  sin  of  which  we  are  all  more 
or  less  guilty. ' ' 

"Oh,  brother  Edward,  do  not,  until  you  have  told  me 
about  the — the — little — little — girl. " 

"W — h — e — w!  little  brother,  what  do  you  want  to 
know  about  her?  How  do  I  know,  child,  I  am  no 
fortune-teller.  Yet  it  seems  to  me  you  could  have 
looked  into  her  eyes  and  read  all  you  wished  to  know." 

' '  I  did  look  at  them  brother,  and  they  frightened  me. ' ' 

"Frightened  you?  what  was  in  that  sweet  face  to 
make  you  afraid?" 

"Brother  Edward,  her  eyes  were  so  pretty;  I  do  not 
see  how  they  could  be  natural.  I  was  looking  for  them 
to  fall  out  and  break,  and  what  a  pity  that  would  be.  I 
do  not  see  how  such  a  thin,  pale,  little  girl  could  have 
such  pretty  eyes ;  and  she  looked  sad  too,  just  like  she 
thought  they  were  going  to  break." 

Edward  leaned  back  and  laughed  himself  almost 
sick.  "My  child,  those  beautiful  eyes  will  never  break, 
but  rather  some  boy's  heart  will  break  some  day  be 
cause  of  their  loveliness. ' ' 

"I  say,  brother  Edward,  do  you  not  wish  that  little 
girl  was  our  sister;  we  would  make  her  happy;  I  won 
der  if  she  can  laugh?  Oh,  I  would  give  anything  to 
hear  her  talk;  I  do  hope  she  is  not  dumb." 

"Little  brother,  I  am  going  to  get  right  jealous," 
and  Edward  smiled  to  himself  to  see  how  the  little 


94  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

girl's  one  glance  had  so  impressed  the  boy,  who  had 
never  been  known  before  to  be  enthusiastic  over  any 
person. 

"Little  brother,  let  us'go  home  now,  I  want  to  finish 
teaching  you  that  piece  on  the  violin ;  and  as  you  are 
well  and  strong  once  more,  books  will  take  the  place  of 
toys.  How  would  you  like  the  idea  of  going  to  school 
mow,  little  brother?' ' 

"I  would  like  to  go,  brother  Edward ;  I  think  I  would 
love  to  study." 

Hence  not  many  days  from  this  time,  Ulhugh  went 
regularly  to  school.  He  learned  fast  and  was  a  gen 
eral  favorite  with  teacher  and  pupils.  Edward  worked 
hard,  for  his  one  ambition  was  to  educate  his  little 
brother.  Toil  is  sweet  when  seasoned  with  love,  and 
Edward  looked  forward  with  joy  to  the  evenings  when 
his  work  was  over  and  Ulhugh' s  lessons  learned.  The 
two  brothers  would  sit  together  and  talk  of  father — 
whom  Ulhugh  had  never  seen — and  sweet  mamma 
gone  home  to  rest.  Then  they  would  speak  of  the 
future — how  the  young  revel  in  "castles  in  the  air!" 
Oh,  let  them  enjoy  this  simple  pastime.  Who  would 
mar  the  happiness  the  young  find  in  a  \vorld  so  full  of 
sadness? 

The  two  brothers  had  learned  to  sing  and  play  to 
gether.  The  love  that  'each  had  for  the  other  was  the 
talk  of  the  village.  On  Sunday  Ulhugh  and  Edward 
could  be  seen  going  to  church  hand  in  hand,  and  sitting 
together  on  the  high  benches  as  they  listened  with 
reverence  to  the  word  of  God,  the  tall  handsome  brother 
ever  taking  tender  care  of  the  little  Ulhugh.  Myrtle 
and  many  others  watched  the  brothers  with  intense  in 
terest.  She  had  often  seen  Ulhugh  going  to  school; 
met  him  face  to  face,  but  never  had  the  children  spoken. 
That  same  pensive  look  was  ever  on  Myrtle's  face,  and 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  95 

Ulhugh  seemed  to  think  her  a  creature  too  pure  aud 
good  for  him  to  approach.  Yet  it  never  entered  Myrtle's 
head  that  any  one  should  give  her  a  thought.  Poor  child ! 
she  was  anything  but  happy.  In  Cecil's  many  deeds 
of  kindness  there  seemed  to  lurk  something  which  was 
wholly  incomprehensible  to  her  childish  mind.  Should 
she  not  love  him  very  dearly ;  had  he  not  been  the  only 
one  in  the  wide,  wide  world  that  had  ever  given  her  a 
kind  word?  Myrtle  knew  Cecil  had  a  right  to  kiss  her 
• — it  was  only  brother  Cecil,  and  oh,  sweet  it  was  to 
have  some  one  love  her.  "Mother  will  not  love  me,  so 
I  will  just  let  brother  Cecil  love  me. ' '  Ah,  mothers,  it 
does  not  take  much  to  steal  your  daughter's  affection, 
even  when  you  are  devoted  to  them.  What  must  be 
the  consequence  when  you  take  no  interest  in  their  wel 
fare,  and  withhold  your  love  from  them?  When  the 
time  came  round  for  Cecil  to  return  home,  he  had  not 
become  acquainted  with  many  persons,  as  he  had  never 
cared  to  mingle  with  mankind,  but  he  liked  Florida 
and  wrould  come  back  year  after  year.  He  would  al 
ways  bring  Myrtle,  as  she  made  things  more  pleasant, 
and  then  Leita  must  have  company.  The  old  mansion 
was  closed ;  the  doors  locked,  and  its  inmates  departed 
for  home.  Ulhugh  was  sorry  for  he  no  longer  saw  the 
little  sad-eyed  girl,  but  was  made  glad  when  he  heard 
that  she  would  return  each  winter  with  her  brother  and 
sister.  Oh,  how  he  longed  to  make  her  happy.  Al 
ways  when  Ulhugh  spoke  to  his  brother  of  Myrtle,  he 
called  her  the  little  "sad-eyed''  girl,  for  he  did  not 
know  Myrtle's  name,  having  never  heard  it  called  by 
any  one.  Edward  encouraged  Ulhugh  in  speaking  of 
Mj-rtle,  for  he  greatly  fancied  the  little  one. 

"Little  brother,  do  you  not  think  when  you  get  to  be 
a  man  you  will  then  win  a  smile  from  her?  ah,  I  know 
you  will." 


96  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

The  two  brothers  grew  into  each  other's  affection  until 
their  love  had  become  boundless.  Oh,  the  joy  and 
bliss  of  those  peaceful  days. 

"  Go  not,  happy  day,  yet  a  moment  stay, 
Brief  has  been  thy  measure. 
Tarry  but  a  moment  in  thy  flight, 
Ere  the  dusky  night  comes  o'er." 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  97 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

"  O,  call  my  brother  back  to  me  ! 
I  can  not  play  alone  ; 
The  summer  comes  with  flower  and  bee, — 
Where  is  my  brother  gone  ?" 

— Hemans. 

THE  days  were  slipping  by,  in  the  meanwhile  Ed 
ward  was  working  hard  that  he  might  make  money  to 
buy  a  home  for  his  little  brother,  and  also  to  have 
something  laid  by  in  store  for  a  rainy  day ;  then  too,  he 
knew  erelong  more  money  would  be  needed  to  enable 
Ulhugh  to  leave  home  for  better  school  advantages. 
How  he  could  be  separated  from  this  little  brother,  he 
did  not  know,  but  "love  endureth  all  things,  "  and  Ed 
ward  felt  Ulhugh  would  be  a  great  man  some  day,  and 
that  God  had  placed  the  child  in  his  hands  and  would 
hold  him  accountable  for  his  future  destiny.  So  great 
did  Edward  feel  this  responsibility  that  he  scarcely 
took  time  for  rest.  Day  in  and  day  out  he  worked 
hard;  how  tired  he  would  get,  but  who  knew  it?  He 
was  ever  the  same  loving,  kind,  cheerful  brother.  If 
he  had  to  lean  his  head  against  his  hands  for  support, 
when  he  heard  Ulhugh  coming  he  would  look  up  and 
greet  him  with  a  smile.  He  had  felt  badly  for  several 
weeks — so  tired!  so  tired!  no  appetite,  no  energy,  no 
buoyancy.  "It  is  only  this  spring  weather,"  he  would 
say.  "I  have  a  fine  constitution;  I  will  be  all  right  in 
a  few  days;  no  time  now  for  sickness.  If  I  stop,  on 
what  have  we  to  live?  I  must  go  to  my  work! 


98  THE   IDES  OF  MARCH. 

Littlo  brother  must  not  know  I  am  not  feeling  well, 
for  it  will  only  worry  him,  poor  child,  he  suffered 
enough  before  he  ever  came  to  me.  God  grant  I  may 
be  able  to  make  him  happy  the  remainder  of  his  life." 

When  the  day  was  done,  Edward  with  difficult)1- 
finished  the  evening  prayer ;  however,  he  told  Ulhugh 
nothing  of  his  indisposition.  That  night  he  tossed  and 
tumbled  upon  his  bed  and  no  sleep  came  to  his  eyes. 
Next  morning,  he  tried  to  arise  and  go  to  his  work,  but 
suddenly  all  became  dark  before  him,  and  he  fell  back 
exhausted  upon  his  pillow.  Ulhugh  was  greatly 
alarmed.  "My  dear,  dear  brother,  what  is  the  mat 
ter?  Let  me  go  for  a  doctor. ' ' 

"No,  no,  little  brother,  I  am  just  somewhat  dizzy,  I 
will  be  all  right  if  I  lie  down  a  few  minutes." 

All  that  day  Edward  grew  worse,  the  fever  had 
taken  a  strong  hold  upon  his  system,  still  he  hoped  all 
would  be  right  in  a  few  days.  Oh,  this  hope  within  us 
that  will  not  die  as  long  as  breath  lasts — blessed  solace, 
blessed  comfort,  ever  would  it  lead  us  on  to  happier 
days,  shielding  us  from  the  bitter  and  giving  us  only 
the  sweet — but  alas !  sunny  Hope  has  a  dusky  sister — 
Despair,  who  waits  to  crush  and  destroy  us. 

Edward  had  now  become  delirious.  Ulhugh  rushed 
for  a  doctor.  On  his  way  he  thought  he  saw  Myrtle, 
although  he  had  not  heard  of  their  arrival.  The  physi 
cian  was  not  long  in  coming,  and  when  he  arrived  and 
gazed  upon  the  face  of  his  patient,  he  became  troubled 
and  slowly  shook  his  head.  Not  long  after  this,  when 
the  brothers  had  been  left  alone,  Edward  rallied  for  a 
few  minutes — "Little  brother,  come  near  me,  and  let  me 
put  my  arms  about  you  and  kiss  you."  A  second  later 
the  sick  brother  went  into  a  deep  slumber,  and  as  he 
slept  Ulhugh  heard  a  gentle  tap.  Opening  the  door 
cautiously,  he  saw  little  Myrtle  slowly  wending  her 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  99 

way  through  the  long  avenue  of  orange  trees.  On  the 
doorstep  was  a  beautiful  bouquet  of  flowers,  to  which 
a  card  was  attached — 

"For  the  sick  young  man.     I  am  very  sorry! 

"MYRTLE  DEAN." 

When  Edward  awoke,  his  brother  showed  him  the 
lovely  ilowers.  The  sick  man  smiled:  "Little  brother, 
I  knew  she  had  a  kind  heart. ' '  Each  day  Myrtle  con 
tinued  to  bring  fresh  flowers  and  leave  them  on  the 
step  of  that  lonely  room ;  and  although  she  had  never 
spoken  a  word  to  either  of  the  brothers,  her  heart  was 
filled  with  sympathy  for  Ulhugh  in  his  distress.  She 
wished  she  was  a  boy  so  that  she  might  go  and  help 
nuise  Edward.  Ulhugh  had  never  known  how  sick 
his  brother  was.  which  made  it  doubly  sad,  when  Ed 
ward  called  him  to  his  bedside  one  day,  and  in  a  low 
voice  whispered:  "Brother,  you  did  not  know  I  was 
very  sick;  still  I  am,  my  child,  although  I  have  just 
realised  the  fact  myself." 

"Oh,  brother  Edward,  brother  Edward,"  sobbed 
Ulhugh,  "what  can  I  do  to  make  you  well?" 

"Come,  little  brother,  do  not  weep;  let  me  hold  your 
hand ;  soon  I  will  lose  my  grasp,  but  you  will  love  me 
still,  I  know  you  will.  I  have  only  a  few  short  mo 
ments  to  be  with  you,  my  boy.  Oh,  little  brother,  how 
svveet  life  has  been  since  I  have  had  you  to  live  for  and 
love.  I  was  trying  to  get  us  a  little  home,  and,  also  to 
lay  aside  some  money  for  your  education — but  God 
knows  best ;  I  must  go  to  a  faraway  land.  Heaven  is 
indeed  sweet,  but  must  I  leave  my  little  brother?  Must 
I  say  good- by?  Come  let  tt^>  tell  you  quickly  what  I 
have  to  say.  Here  is  the  Ting  that  dear  mother  left 
you.  Keep  it  until  you  pl^ce  it  upon  the  hand  of  a 
pure  and  fail*  virgin.  Striv^  hard  to  educate  yourself; 


100  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 

it  is  the  only  thing  that  cannot  be  taken  from  you. 
Above  all  things — '  love  the  Lord  with  all  your  heart, 
soul  and  mind. '  Be  noted  for  your  honesty,  faithful 
ness,  integrity,  and  as  for  kindness  and  politeness,  I 
know  you  will  never  fail  in  these  minor  though  import 
ant  characteristics.  Father  bequeathed  to  you  a  good 
name ;  cherish  it,  bind  it  as  a  precious  jewel  about  thy 
neck.  Remember  few  sons  ever  possessed  such  a  noble 
father.  I  have  a  little  money  laid  aside ;  you  know 
where  I  keep  it.  Buy  me  a  plain  pine  coffin.  I  wish 
the  money  saved  as  much  as  possible  for  your  educa 
tion.  Bury  me  in  this  sweet  flower-land,  and  forget 
not  sometimes  to  come  and  sit  by  thy  brother's  lonel}1" 
grave;  and  as  the  long  gray  moss  trails  o'er  my  cold 
dust,  and  the  old  trees  drop  their  autumn  leaves  above 
my  head,  remember  still  your  brother  Edward;  child, 
I  loved  you  to  the  end.  It  is  getting  dark ;  draw  the 
curtains  aside.  Who  is  it  passing  by?  It  is  our  little 
flower  girl.  Ask  her  in,  little  brother,  I  would  like  to 
see  her." 

With  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  Ulhugh  went 
to  the  door  just  as  Myrtle  was  placing  some  flowers  on 
the  step.  He  paused  a  moment  before  he  said :  "Little 
'sad -eyes'  "  (this  wras  the  only  name  he  could  then  think 
of)  "my  brother  is  dying,  and  wishes  to  see  you.  Will 
you  not  come  in?" 

Myrtle  felt  it  was  no  time  now  for  mock  propriety,  so 
straight  to  the  bedside  of  the  sufferer  she  went,  her  sad 
eyes  meeting  those  of  the  dying  man.  "Little  girl,  I 
am  going  away.  You  do  not  know  me,  neither  am  I 
acquainted  with  you,  but  something  tells  me  as  I  lie 
here  dying,  that  you  are  kind  and  true.  I  leave  my 
little  brother  with  no  one  to  love  him ;  will  you  be  a 
friend  to  him?" 

Myrtle  thought :    "Surely,    does  any  one  wish    my 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  101 

friendship?"  and  she  timidly  glanced  at  Ulhugh  who 
sj.it  wringing  his  hands — a  picture  of  deepest  despair. 
"Will  the  little  girl  refuse  my  dying  request?"  Myrtle 
hesitated  no  longer: 

"In  peace  I  would  have  you  die,  sir.  If  your  brother 
over  craves  my  friendship,  I  will  not  withhold  my— 
my-1 r" 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  little  girl.  Little  brother, 
are  you  near  me?  I  had  a  beautiful,  sweet  sister  once, 
but  I  have  not  seen  her  since  the  cruel  war — little  girl 
will  you  forgive  me,  if  I  kiss  your  hand  for  her  sake?" 

Myrtle  put  her  thin,  white  hand  to  the  lips  of  the 
dying  man,  who  kissed  it  reverently. 

"Little  brother,  it  is  getting  cold.  Oh,  I  know  what 
it  means;  I  have  only  a  short  time  now;  will  some  one 
sing  to  me — sweet  music  let  me  hear." 

Ulhugh  looked  beseechingly  toward  Myrtle,  as  if  to 
say,  "Please  sing,  I  cannot,  my  heart  is  broken." 
Myrtle  had  never  sung  for  any  one  but  Cecil,  but  she 
was  determined  to  sing  now,  whatever  the  effort  might 
cost  her.  She  silently  asked  help  of  God,  and  in  a 
voice  tremulous  with  sad  emotion  yet  sweetly  angelic, 
began  singing  — 

"  Jesus  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly." 

The  dying  man  gasped — "Sweet — sweet — little — girl 
—  Little  brother  —  I  —  hear  —  the — •  angels — singing — 
Heaven ' ' 

There  was  a  radiance  upon  Edward's  face,  as  if 
kissed  by  the  sunlight  of  God.  The  right  hand  of  the 
dying  man  was  placed  in  Myrtle's  palm ;  the  left  was 
clasped  tightly  by  the  weeping  little  brother.  When 
Edward  ceased  to  speak,  Ulhugh  cried  pitiously: 
"Brother,  dear  brother,  oh,  comeback  to  me0  I  cannot 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

without  you.  Dear  brother  you  were  so  good  and 
kind  to  me — brother,  brother,  will  you  leave  rno  all 
alone?  Come  back  and  tell  me  you  love  me  still ;  speak 
only  one  word — oh,  you  are — gone — gone — gone!" 

My i tie  tenderly  closed  the  eyes  of  Edward  Waldo, 
and  then  bent  over  his  lifeless  body  and  gently  kissed 
his  cold,  damp  brow.  Ulhugh  though  deeply  grief 
stricken  noticed  this  kind  act  of  the  little  girl,  and 
loved  her  for  it.  Myrtle,  after  folding  Edward's  hands 
and  placing  in  them  some  of  the  white  buds  she  had 
brought,  felt  she  could  do  no  more ;  for  could  she  com 
fort  the  living — God  alone  could  do  this.  As  the  young 
girl  pondered,  not  knowing  her  duty  under  the  circum 
stances,  Cecil  came  in  and  stood  beside  her.  He  had 
heard  Myrtle  singing  while  passing  by,  and  stopping  to 
listen  had  hastened  into  the  room  on  hearing  Ulhugh's 
sobs.  At  one  glance  Cecil  saw  Edward's  lifeless  body, 
the  sorrowing  brother,  and  the  anxious,  sj-mpatnetic 
look  upon  Myrtle's  sweet  face.  Going  to  the  little  girl 
he  touched  her  gentlj*:  "Child,  do  you  try  to  do  good 
everywhere?  Yet  this  is  no  place  for  a  little  girl, 
Myrtle.  Go,  leave  all  to  me.  I  will  see  that  everjr- 
thing  is  done  aright." 

Myrtle  knew  well  how  kind-hearted  Cecil  was,  and 
felt  assured  that  he  would  now  be  true  to  his  word. 
Going  near  to  Ulhugh  she  softly  whispered,  "I  am 
very  sorry  for  you,  indeed  I  am,  but  look  to  Jesus, 
He  will  help  you.  I  will  pray  for  you,"  and  then 
noiselessly  turning  away,  left  the  room.  When  Myrtle 
had  gone.  Cecil  pondered  long  on  the  lovely  character 
of  this  little  sister. 

"An  angel  of  mercy   is   that    sweet    child;    what 
brought  her  here?    Where  sickness,  sorrow,  and  suffer 
ing  dwells,  there  abides  my  little  Myrtle." 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  103 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  And  the  heart  that  is  soonest  awake  to  the  flowers, 
Is  always  the  first  to  be  touched  by  the  thorn." 

— Moore. 

"  Cords  that  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure, 
Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe." 

— Burns. 

IT  does  not  take  loDg  for  little  girls  to  become  young 
ladies.  Edith  DeLong  had  long  since  put  away  her 
dolls,  yet  her  life  continued  to  be  full  of  sunshine  and 
happiness.  After  finding  Mrs.  Waldo  was  dead,  Mrs. 
DeLong  thought  it  unnecessary  to  tell  Edith  who  her 
true  mother  was.  "I  love  the  child  with  a  mother's 
devotion,  and  the  child  loves  me — why  make  her  un 
happy?  I  see  no  good  in  telling  her  I  am  not  her 
mother. ' ' 

And  thus  the  years  passed  on — Edith  ever  believing 
Mrs.  DeLong  her  real  mother.  Money  had  been  spent 
lavishly  in  giving  Edith  every  advantage  in  the  finest 
schools  North,  consequently  she  sang,  played,  painted, 
recited  and  possessed  all  the  many  accomplishments 
necessary  for  perfect  ease  in  refined  society. 

Edith  was  now  a  sweet  girl  graduate,  and  as  she  was 
very  young  she  knew  all  the  joyous  merriment  that 
comes  to  a  maiden  in  her  "teens."  Her  musical  laugh 
ter  could  be  heard  floating  through  the  house  and  she 
was  so  full  of  fun  that  she  teased  her  mother  every  day 
yet  in  a  lovely  and  respectful  manner.  Edith  was  rich, 
beautiful,  liigVly  educated,  and  fascinating.  Do  you 
wonder  that  the  meu  sought  her  companionship?  Had 


104  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

she  possessed  only  one  of  these  qualities,  she  woulu 
have  been  popular,  but  having  the  combined  graces, 
she  became  all  the  more  a  favorite  in  society.  Each 
day  the  mail  carrier  would  bring  a  number  of  love  let 
ters,  which  she  would  read,  then  throw  laughingly 
aside  as  she  tossed  her  pretty  head.  "I  wonder  if  these 
boys  think  I  am  goose  enough  to  believe  all  their  non 
sense?  I  would  not  give  a  nickel  for  all  their  protesta 
tions  of  love."  To-day  there  was  onlj'  one  letter  in 
closed  in  a  small,  dainty  envelope.  Edith  hastily  broke 
the  seal,  for  she  knew  it  was  from  Genevieve  Greyon, 
her  old  chum  and  schoolmate.  As  young  girls  love  to 
read  their  letters  to  some  one  else,  Edith  will  give  you 
the  contents  of  hers. 

"WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  May  1.  18—. 

"DARLING  OLD  EDITH:  I  have  just  time  to  say  I 
want  you  to  come  on  the  next  train  to  see  me.  If  you 
dare  say  you  can't,  I  will  murder  you. 

"Mother  says  she 'is  dying  to  see  you — she  did  not 
use  these  words,  she  knew,  of  course,  her  daughter 
would  put  it  in  emphatic  language  for  her.  I  have  a  big 
secret  to  tell  you.  There  is  a  handsome  fellow  here 
from  Philadelphia  who  has  been  to  see  me  several 
times,  but  I  am  ashamed  to  say  'I  can't  catch  him'— 
I  am  not  pretty  enough  for  him. 

"All  the  girls  are  breaking  their  necks  over  him,  and 
trying  to  take  him  from  me,  but  if  I  can't  have  him,  I 
am  determined  that  no  one  here  shall  take  him  away 
from  me.  So,  I  have  just  made  up  my  mind  that  this 
over-fastidious  young  gentleman  shall  have  his  heart 
drawn  to  a.  focus ;  and  you,  my  fair  lady,  shall  come  at 
once  to  handle  the  len^.  I  want  him  to  know  that  there 
is  one  girl  in  the  world  before  whom  he  is  compelled  to 
fall  down  and  worship.  I  asked  him  one  day  why  he 
did  not  fall  in  love,  and  he  answered  that  he  was  al 
ready  in  love,  that  when  he  was  a  little  boy  he  met  a 
beautiful  girl  with  sunny  hair  aud  deep  blue  eyes — that 
their  eyes  only  met  for  one  short  moment,  but  he  had 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  105 

never  forgotten  that  little  girl.  He  says  he  feels  he 
will  meet  her  again  some  day,  and  then  she  will  have 
to  say  yes,  or  no ;  like  any  girl  would  be  goose  enough 
to  say  no  to  him ! 

"  We  talk  just  like  we  were  sister  and  brother.  I 
try  my  best  to  make  him  flirt,  but  there  is  no  flirt  in 
him — he  is  too  noble  and  grand.  His  dark  eyes  look 
down  on  me  when  he  thinks  me  flirting,  as  if  he  could 
wither  me.  I  have  told  him  I  know  a  girl  just  as 
pretty  as  the  one  he  described,  and  for  aught  I  know, 
you  may  be  that  same  girl.  Wouldn't  it  be  funny;  but, 
if  you  are  not,  he  will  never  think  of  any  one  else  after 
he  has  seen  you.  I  will  not  tell  you  his  name ;  wait 
and—  It  is  quite  strange  that  he  has  a  smile  that  al 
ways  reminds  me  of  you.  I  suppose  this  is  why  I  like 
him  so  much,  although  he  is  himself  divine.  But  I 
will  not  tell  you  more  of  this  Adonis — come  and  see 
for  yourself.  Don't  wait  to  have  anything  made,  you 
have  enough  dresses  now,  and  if  you  dress  too  fine  I 
will  be  ashamed  of  my  old  clothes.  Won't  we  have  a 
'picnic?' 

"I  can't  wait  to  hear  from  you.  Mind,  I  will  take 
no  denial — you  must  come.  Telegraph  me  you  will 
be  here  on  the  next  train.  I  am  just  dying  to  see  you. 
'Till  I  meet  you,  old,  sweet  love,  love,  love,  and  a  mil 
lion  kisses. '  Your  own, 

"GEN. 

"P.  S. — Tell  your  mother  if  she  does  not  let  you 
come,  my  heart  will  just  burst  with  grief  and  disap 
pointment  ! — G. ' ' 

Edith,  carrying  the  letter  to  her  mother  and  reading 
it  from  beginning  to  end,  said,  "Mother,  what  must  I 
do?" 

"What  do  you  wish  to  do,  my  child,  you  know  I  am 
always  willing  for  you  to  have  any  innocent  pleasure?" 

Mrs.  DeLong  felt  sure  Edith  would  accept  the  invita 
tion,  for  she  had  never  known  a  girl  in  her  life  who 
after  graduating  and  spending  a  few  weeks  at  home, 
was  not  ready  to  go  somewhere  else.  While  at  school, 


106  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

girls  long  and  sigh  for  home,  sweet  home,  then  when 
they  get  home  they  pine  for  something  else.  But  tho 
poor  creatures  have  been  caged  so  many  years  in  school 
that  they  become  restless  and  wish  to  fly  from  place  to 
place  as  if  to  stretch  their  pent  wings. 

Mrs.  DeLong  had  once  been  a  girl,  so  was  not  sur 
prised  when  Edith  said,  "Mamma,  if  |you  have  no  ob 
jection,  I  will  telegraph  Genevieve  to  expect  me  one 
week  from  to-day. ' ' 

"Do  as  you  like,  my  child — it  is  well,  but  of  course 
I  will  miss  you." 

"I  will  be  back  in  a  few  short  weeks  mother." 

"I  hope  you  will  bring  your  heart  with  you,  my 
child — remember  I  cannot  give  you  to  another  for  a 
long  time  yet ;  if  ever — and  then  I  have  never  met  any 
man  whom  I  thought  was  the  half  worthy  of  my  darl 
ing." 

Edith  threw  her  arms  lovingly  about  Mrs.  DeLong 
"Do  not  fear,  dear  mother,  that  I  shall  lose  my  heart; 
look  at  the  boys  who  have  tried  already  to  steal  it  away 
and  have  not  succeeded.  I  will  come  back  to  you  as  I 
leave — 'heart  whole  and  fancy  free.' ' 

"Well,  my  child,  as  you  have  fully  decided  to  go, 
I  will  take  you  downtown  and  purchase  your  clothes, 
and  give  them  at  once  to  the  dressmaker.  You  will 
have  no  time  to  lose. ' ' 

Consequently,  Edith  and  her  mother  were  exceedingly 
busy,  and  by  the  end  of  the  week  two  large  Saratoga 
trunks  had  been  packed  to  almost  bursting,  and  sent  to 
the  depot.  Edith  shortly  afterward  followed  her  bag 
gage,  and  bidding  her  father  and  mother  an  affection 
ate,  tearful  adieu,  the  young  girl  was  an  hour  later  fly 
ing  over  ground  between  Baltimore  and  Washington. 
The  maiden's  heart  beat  quick  as  she  thought  of  the 
pleasure  in  store,  for  she  had  never  seen  Washington, 
and  now  longed  to  gaze  upon  its  many  wonders. 


THE   IDES   OF  MARCH.  107 

"I  am  impatient  to  see  our  nation's  capitol,  and— and 
I  wonder  who  that  young  man  can  be  of  whom  'Gen' 
wrote?  Oh,  but  he  is  just  like  all  the  young  men  I 
know — tiresome  to  death.  What  a  nuisance  to  bo 
obliged  to  sit  and  talk  for  hours  to  a  stupid  boy ;  well, 
well,  I  have  to  endure  this  and  be  bored  to  death,  as  is 
the  fate  of  all  young  ladies." 

Edith  looked  out  of  the  window  awhile,  and  then  to 
vary  the  dreary  monotony  read  herself  to  sleep,  and 
did  not  awake  until  she  heard  the  loud  cry  of  the  con 
ductor:  "Washington,  all  out  for  Washington."  Be 
coming  suddenly  conscious  that  she  had  been  lost  in 
slumber,  Edith  looked  inquiringly  about  her,  a  second 
later,  she  exclaimed  with  the  impulse  of  a  schoolgirl, 
"There  is  dear  old  'Gen',"  and  the  two  girls  rushed 
into  each  others  arms  and  hugged  and  kissed  with  so 
much  demonstration  that  the  old  ladies  smiled  as  it 
made  them  think  of  their  joyous  youth. 

Mrs.  Greyon's  elegant  carriage  awaited  Edith,  and 
as  the  two  girls  rode  over  the  clean  wide  streets,  you 
could  never  have  repeated  their  conversation — it  was 
buzz,  buzz,  neither  maiden  ever  finishing  a  sentence, 
being  always  interrupted  by  her  enthusiastic  chum. 
Edith  and  Genevieve  were  supremely  happy.  It  would 
have  been  hard  to  tell  which  heart  possessed  more  joy. 
"Edith,  here  we  are  at  home,  and  there  is  clear  mam 
ma—the  best  mother  in  the  world.  Mother,  look  at 
Edith.  Is  she  not  perfectly  beautiful?" 

But  before  Mrs.  Greyon  could  make  reply  to  her 
daughter's  remark  Genevieve  had  caught  Edith  about 
the  waist  and  was  leading  her  up  the  long  stairway. 

"Edith,  you  will  have  to  be  in  a  hurry — I  thought 
you  would  have  been  here  yesterday  and  by  this  time 
entirely  rested,  so  1  made  an  engagement  for  your 
especial  benefit  with  tluit  young  man,  You  remember 


108  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

I  wrote  you  about  him.  I  had  no  way  of  informing 
him  that  you  did  not  arrive  yesterday,  hence  am  ex 
pecting  him  certainly  this  evening.  Just  wash  your 
hands  and  somewhat  straighten  your  hair,  and  we  will 
go  down  to  supper;  and  then  you  must  come  and  put 
on  your  very  finest.  I  want  you  to  look  prettier  than 
you  ever  did  in  all  your  life.  I  am  simply  dying  to 
see  that  boy  worship  you,  for  that  is  just  what  he  is 
going  to  do.  Oh,  how  jealous  all  the  girls  will  be — • 
but  here,  you  look  all  right.  Come  on  down  to  supper. 
We  have  no  time  to  eat  very  much  now,  but  after  the 
boys  leave  to-night,  we  will  make  up  for  lost  time,  and 
wre  will  eat  and  talk  until  after  midnight. ' ' 

After  this  conversation  it  is  not  surprising  the  two 
girls  should  have  excused  themselves  from  the  tea  table 
before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greyon  half -finished  their  evening 
meal. 

"Now,  Edith,"  quizzed  Genevieve,  "what  are  you 
going  to  put  on?" 

"Wait  and  see,  Miss  'Gen.'  Your  curiosity  is  run 
ning  too  high;  yet  I  will  tell  you  this  much — I  am 
going  to  put  on  the  simplest  dress  I  have."  Gene 
vieve  left  her  friend  for  a  few  minutes  and  gathering 
some  flowers  sent  them  by  the  servant  for  Edith  to 
wear ;  the  young  hostess  then  went  into  the  parlor  to  see 
that  everything  was  tastily  arranged.  She  thought  she 
remained  only  a  short  time,  hence  was  astonished  on 
returning  to  her  room  at  finding  her  chum  leisurely 
reading  one  of  Longfellow's  poems — having  already 
adorned  herself  for  the  evening.  The  light  shone 
softly  on  the  golden  hair,  which  was  caught  in  a  shin 
ing  coil  just  above  the  plump,  dimpled  neck,  and  in  the 
wavy  tresses  were  twined  single  white  hyacinths,  thus 
enhancing  the  loveliness  of  the  sunny  silken  meshes. 
The  simple,  girlish  dress  of  pale  blue  mull  fell  in  soft 


•  THE   IDES   OF    MARCH.  109 

folds  about  the  faultless  form.  The  fine  lace  at  her 
nock  was  too  sheer  to  hide  the  swan-like  neck.  The 
sleeves  were  short,  which  made  Genevieve  wish  to  kiss 
the  round  pink  chiseled  arms.  Edith  was  the  very 
image  of  her  mother;  not  lovelier,  for  no  one  could 
have  been  more  beautiful  than  Mrs.  Waldo  as  a  young 
maiden. 

Genevieve  stood  entranced,  looking  upon  the  sweet 
girlish  figure  before  her ;  and  as  she  did  so,  the  door 
bell  rang.  Edith  heard  the  sound,  and  at  that  moment 
a  dart  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  thrust  into  her 
heart.  She  hastily  viewed  herself  in  the  large  mirror 
— ' '  Will  he  think  me  pretty?' '  and  then  she  abruptly 
turned  away.  "I  am  ashamed  of  myself;  of  course  he 
will  not," 

"Edith  DeLong,  I  am  satisfied  you  will  conquer 
him,  for  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  creature  in  all 
my  life.  Come  old  sweet,  I  am  impatient  to  see  the 
fun." 

Edith  could  not  understand  why  her  heart  beat  so 
loudly ;  she  had  met  many  young  men — what  was  it 
now  that  made  her  lose  her  usual  composure  of 'manner? 
Before  she  had  scarcely  become  aware  of  her  surround 
ings,  Genevieve  had  led  her  into  the  parlor  and  was  in 
troducing  her.  "Miss  DeLong,  allow  me  to  present 
my  friend,  Mr.  Felix." 

Raymond  Felix  bowed  low,  and  then  raising  his 
head  caught  a  glimpse  of  Edith's  deep  violet  eyes. 
The  sweet,  girlish  face  at  once  became  suffused  with 
blushes,  thus  deepening  the  pink  roses  in  her  dimpled 
cheeks.  How  angry  she  was  with  herself  for  showing 
her  emotion.  Raymond's  heart  gave  a  sudden  bound  of 
joy.  "I  have  found  her  at  last;  she  is  the  same  little 
;ilrl  of  whom  I  have  droamed  so  many  years.  I  was  a 
Uoy  then;  I  am  a  man  now.  I  will  never  lose  hor 


110  THE  IDES  OF   MARCH. 

again."  Edith  studied  Raymond's  face — was  he  hand 
some?  Yes,  exceedingly;  yet  nobility  and  benignity 
stamped  the  open  countenance  rather  than  good  looks. 
His  bearing  was  easy  and  graceful,  and  he  possessed 
every  element  of  the  true  gentleman;  being  almost 
punctilious  to  those  about  him  in  his  polish  and  ele 
gance.  Consequently,  he  won  the  affection  of  both  old 
and  young,  but  especially  did  he  steal  sweet  maiden's 
hearts,  hence  it  is  no  wonder  the  evening  passed  most 
pleasantly  for  Edith  and  Genevieve  while  in  such  genial 
companionship.  The  city  clock  tolled  eleven.  Ray 
mond  rose  immediately,  astonished  at  the  lateness  of 
the  hour.  "Miss  Genevieve — 

'  Too  late  I  stayed — forgive  the  crime, 

Unheeded  flew  the  hours ; 
How  noiseless  falls  the  foot  of  time, 
That  only  treads  on  flowers.'  " 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  Ill 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  He  that  wants  money,  means  and  content  is 
Without  thee  good  friend." 

— Shakespeare. 

MANY  were  the  weary  days  for  Ulhugh  after  Ed 
ward's  death.  Everywhere  the  sorrowing  boy  turned 
reminded  him  of  his  absent  brother.  "Oh,  if  I  could 
only  die,  but  no,  I  am  left  here — Oh,  Maker,  for  what? 
But  brother  would  not  have  me  question  God.  I  must 
love  God  and  the  little  sad-eyed  girl  said  I  must  look 
to  Jesus  and  he  would  help  me ;  but  what  does  this 
little  girl  know  of  trouble?  She  is  rich  and  has  many 
friends  and  relatives.  And  I  do  not  suppose  she  ever 
had  a  care  or  sorrow  in  her  life  even  if  she  does  look 
sad." 

Ulhugh  often  met  Myrtle  now,  and  had  learned  to 
talk  to  her.  The  two  friends — for  such  they  had  be 
come — sat  many  times  under  the  old  oak  tree  near  Ed 
ward's  grave  conversing  for  hours  at  a  time.  One  day 
Ulhugh  said:  "I  wish  I  had  a  friend  who  would  lend 
;  ne  money  for  a  few  years,  so  that  I  might  go  to  col- 
lege,  I  could  pay  after  finishing  school  work  and  with  big 
interest.  I  could  make  money  when  educated  so  much 
better  than  now.  An  ignorant  man  has  a  hard  time." 

Myrtle's  face  brightened  as  she  listened  to  Ulhugh. 
"lam  so  glad  to  hear  you  speak  as  you  do.  I  know 
you  will  succeed  in  life.  God  always  helps  those  who 
try  to  help  themselves.  Have  you  ever  asked  any  one 
to  lend  you  money?" 


112  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

"No,  it  would  be  useless;  who  would  lend  a  poor  boy 
money?  I  will  never  be  humiliated  by  asking  favors 
of  men  only  to  be  refused." 

It  was  evident  from  Myrtle's  face  that  she  was  think 
ing  of  something  very  important.  "I  cannot  help  be 
lieving,  Ulhugh,  that  you  will  be  educated." 

"Nor  I,  for  I  am  saving  every  dollar  I  make  for  this 
purpose ;  yet  the  money  seems  to  come  slowly,  and  the 
days  are  flying  swiftly  in  which  I  should  be  going  to 
school.  I  see  your  brother  coming ;  I  must  be  going. 
By  the  way,  he  seems  to  love  you  very  much,  he  must 
make  it  pleasant  for  you?"  Ulhugh  did  not  see  the 
flush  that  came  over  Myrtle's  face;  he  was  looking 
toward  his  brother's  grave.  "Strange,  sighed  the  lad, 
"you  have  so  many  to  love  you  while  I  had  only  one. 
and  he  is  gone.  Good-by,  I  will  see  you  again  soon. ' ' 

Oh,  how  little  we  know  of  the  secret  chambers  in  an 
other's  heart.  Envy  not  the  lot  of  thy  fellow-being,  for 
you  do  not  see  the  anguish  pent  up  in  his  soul's  dark 
recesses,  hid  forever  from  your  impenetrable  view! 
Cecil  had  drawn  near  to  wrhere  Myrtle  was  sitting. 
"Little  one,  I  have  searched  everywhere  for  you;  what 
are  you  doing  with  this  lad?  I  do  not  like  you  being 
with  him  so  much ;  he  is  not  socially  your  equal,  and 
if  he  was,  some  one  else  wishes  your  company — can 
you  guess  who?" 

Myrtle- did  not  seem  to  hear  Cecil's  last  remark,  and 
with  childlike  trust  looked  into  Cecil's  face:  "Brother 
Cecil,  I  believe  you  are  mistaken  in  Ulhugh ;  I  think 
he  is  of  high  birth  but  however  lowly  his  parents  may 
have  been,  he  is  certainly  a  noble,  true  boy.  I  am  in 
deed  sorry  for  him,  for  he  is  anxious  for  an  education 
and  has  no  money. ' ' 

"Well,  little  pet,  are  you  going  to  take  upon  you  the 
sorrows  of  the  world?  if  so,  I  have  been  grieving  a  long 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  113 

time  for  a  kiss  from  your  sweet  lips,"  and  as  Cecil  spoke, 
he  drew  Myrtle  toward  him,  although  ho  saw  it  would 
be  with  great  reluctance  that  the  innocent  girl  would 
kiss  him.  "Ah,  will  she  never  love  me?"  he  thought. 

"I  wish  to  ask  a  favor  of  you  Cecil,"  never  dream 
ing  of  the  nature  of  his  sister's  request,  he  replied : 

"It  shall  be  granted,  my  pet,  to  the  half  of  my  king 
dom." 

"  Not  so  fast,  brother  Cecil,  my  request  is  large — • 
listen:  Ulhugh  wishes  to  go  to  school,  yet  has  not 
sufficient  means.  Will  you  lend  him  money  with  in 
terest  until  after  he  has  finished  college?  He  can  then 
easily  make  the  money  and  return  it  to  you." 

"Why,  my  little  pet,  this  is  truly  a  great  request;  do 
you  realize  that  i+  would  take  a  large  sum  of  money? 
I  know  nothing  of  this  boy,  and  every  cent  I  might 
give  him  might  be  the  same  as  throwing  it  away. ' ' 

"Brother  Cecil,  Ulhugh  will  return  the  money. 
You  say  you  love  me,  now  prove  it  by  granting  my 
request." 

"Ah,  Myrtle,  my  sweet  pet,  if  you  doubt  my  love 
after  years  of  tenderness  and  kindness,  will  granting 
this  favor  prove  my  deep  affection?  If  so,  I  am  glad 
you  put  me  to  the  test.  My  love,  little  one,  is  equal  to 
a  greater  crucible — I  would  sacrifice  anything  for  my 
little  sister,  yet  she  seems  unconscious  of  the  fact,"  and 
Cecil  pressed  Myrtle  to  his  throbbing  bosom  and  kissed 
her  ardently.  ' '  Your  wish  is  granted,  my  sweet  little 
pet." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  brother  Cecil.  I  am 
so  glad  you  have  decided  to  do  such  a  good  deed.  God 
will  bless  you  for  it." 

"My  child,  God  will  not  bless  me  in  this,  for  what  I 
have  done  was  only  to  prove  my  love  for  my  pet." 
Poor,  innocent  Myrtle  thought  it  was  a  brother's  love, 


114  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 

and  as  such  tried  to  show  sisterly  appreciation.  Even 
Cecil  tried  to  imagine  "If  I  had  a  sister,  I  would  love 
hor  as  I  do  this  child."  Ah,  ever  would  Satan  cheat 
us — clothing  the  blackest  sin  in  the  whitest  robes. 

"Come,  Cecil,  it  is  getting  late,  sister  Leita  will  be 
waiting  for  us.  You  know  how  she  longs  to  have  you 
in  her  presence.  I  think  she  is  the  most  devoted  Avife 
I  ever  saw.  You  should  be  the  proudest  man  in  the 
world  to  possess  such  a  jewel;  but  there  is  no  use  tell 
ing  you  this  fact.  I  suppose  every  man  thinks  his  wife 
the  sweetest  and  best  woman  in  the  universe. ' ' 

As  the  brother  and  sister  walked  home  together. 
Cecil  had  little  to  say — Myrtle  did  most  of  the  talking. 
"Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  brother  Cecil;  I  hope  it  will  not 
be  long  ere  I  can  prove  to  you  my  love  and  appreciation 
of  the  favor  shown  me  to-day." 

"My  pet,  may  the  day  never  come  in  which  you  will 
have  to  sacrifice  any  pleasure  for  me.  To  be  in  your 
presence,  little  one,  is  all  that  I  desire." 

When  Cecil  and  Myrtle  had  neared  the  front  gate. 
Leita  saw  them  coining,  and  throwing  a  book  aside 
which  she  was  reading,  ran  with  haste  to  meet  her  hus 
band. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  my  darling;  I 
have  been  very  lonesome  without  you."  and  the  sweet 
wife  tenderly  kissed  her  husband.  Cecil  received  the 
caress  as  a  natural  right  due  him.  Leita  had  long 
since  thought  men  had  been  given  on  earth  to  be  loved, 
and  woman's  duty  was  to  shower  upon  her  lord  every 
affection.  As  Myrtle  went  into  the  house,  she  did  not 
know  when  she  had  ever  been  so  happy.  To  bestow  a 
kindness  upon  another  was  her  greatest  joy. 

A  few  days  later  she  took  her  accustomed  stroll  in 
fbe  woods,  and  sat  near  Edward's  grave.  As  php 
rested,  she  wished  for  Ulhugh  that  she  might  learn  if  he 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  115 

had  received  any  money  from  Cecil.  Myrtle's  wish  was 
soon  gratified,  for  Ulhugh  had  see  her  leave  home,  and 
had  followed  her.  After  the  usual  greeting  and  a  few 
remarks,  Ulhugh  said:  "I  am  so  happy  I  cannot  keep 
^Y  joy  to  myself.  What  do  you  think?  Some  one 
has  been  kind  enough  to  lend  me  money  until  I  finish 
school.  I  have  puzzled  my  brain  to  know  who  it  can 
be.  I  have  many  kind  (acquaintances,  but  did  not 
know  I  possessed  a  friend  so  generous." 

Myrtle  fearing  she  might  betray  herself,  tried  to 
think  of  something  to  say. 

"lam  so  glad  for  you;  but  what  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"Why,  I  am  going  to  school  just  as  soon  as  I  can 
get  ready.  I  have  a  check  for  several  hundred  dollars. 
The  bank  that  issued  it  wrote  me  a  note  telling  me  to 
draw  on  them  whenever  I  needed  money.  Although  I 
do  not  know  who  it  is  that  is  so  kind  to  me,  I  feel  that 
if  there  is  one  person  in  the  world  taking  so  much  in 
terest  in  me,  I  should  begin  in  earnest  to  make  a  man  of 
myself.  May  God  help  me  never  to  shake  the  confi 
dence  of  that  person  who  has  so  fully  trusted  me." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this  Ulhugh,  and  I  do  not 
believe  you  ever  will.  I  have  noticed  you  often,  and 
have  yet  to  see  you  do  that  which  is  wrong. ' ' 

' '  Thank  you,  nothing  does  me  so  much  good  as  en 
couragement.  I  must  now  say  good-by;  I  have  a  little 
business  to  attend  to  a  few  miles  from  here,  and  will 
leave  to-night.  I  may  not  return  to  this  place  for  sev 
eral  months — good-by. ' ' 

Ulhugh  took  Myrtle's  proffered  hand  and  shook  it — 
was  that  all?  Myrtle's  tender  dark  eyes  sought  Ul 
hugh' s  honest  face;  neither  spoke — why  should  they? 
Both  were  timid  and  shy ;  he  only  a  sturdy  lad ;  she 
was  yet  a  sweet  lassie.  As  Ulhugh  walked  away,  he 


116  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

wished  to  turn  and  see  Myrtle's  sad  eyes  once  more ; 
but  no,  this  would  not  do.  "I  must  not  be  so  impolite 
as  to  look  back. ' ' 

After  Ulhugh's  departure.  Myrtle  sat  for  some  time 
wrapped  in  deep  meditation. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  117 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"  Beauty  provoketh  thieves  sooner  than  gold." 

— Shakespeare. 

As  Myrtle  grew  older,  Cecil  was  more  marked  in  his 
attention  to  her.  Strange  to  say,  no  one,  not  even 
Leita,  noticed  his  misdemeanor.  The  wife's  eyes  were 
closed  as  usual  to  everything  evil  in  her  husband. 
Years  had  slipped  by  since  Myrtle  was  a  little  cooing 
baby.  She  was  no  longer  a  poor,  puny  child,  but  had 
developed  into  a  maiden  of  surpassing  beauty.  Who 
ever  thought  a  child  so  homely  would  become  a  beauti 
ful  woman?  Yet  Myrtle's  features  had  always  been 
perfect,  and  her  eyes  even  in  babyhood  were  divine. 
Her  mother  had  dressed  her,  as  a  child,  most  unbecom 
ingly,  but  now  Myrtle  was  old  enough  to  make  her 
own  dresses,  and  to  arrange  her  long,  dark  hair  into 
graceful  coils  about  her  queenly  head.  She  seemed 
transformed  into  another  being — her  complexion  was 
an  unusual  whiteness  beside  her  large,  lustrous,  glow 
ing,  dark  eyes,  her  pretty  ears  resembled  tiny  pink  sea 
shells,  and  her  small,  even  teeth  were  white  and  glisten 
ing.  There  was  something  about  the  pretty  mouth 
that  bespoke  decision  of  character — but  where  were 
Myrtle's  dimples.  Idma  Dean  had  no  dimples — they 
would  not  have  been  in  keeping  with  her  calm  queenly 
face.  When  you  see  dimples,  you  naturally  expect  to 
see  fun,  merriment,  and  laughing  darlings.  You 
would  never  think  of  these  things  when  you  gazed 


118  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

upon  Idma  Dean.  Could  you  have  seen  her  as  she 
stood  erect  with  faultless  form,  you  would  have  whis 
pered — "What  a  beautiful  queen  she  is,  yet  haughty." 

Not  so  fast — hear  her  gentle,  tender  voice,  with  its 
musical  accent;  see  the  sweet  smile  that  lights  the 
dreamy  eyes  and  pensive  face,  and  you  will  feel  ashamed 
of  yourself  for  having  given  the  young  girl  a  single 
wicked  thought.  Myrtle  had  no  peace  at  home,  for 
Mrs.  Dean  made  it  her  special  duty  to  find  fault  with 
her  from  morning  till  night.  Myrtle  thought  she 
could  not  endure  her  mother's  harsh  treatment,  yet  the 
young  girl  was  obliged  to  submit  to  her  lot  for  she  could 
not  leave  home — where  could  she  have  gone?  She 
thought  of  the  high  name  her  father  and  mother  l>ore, 
yet  had  her  parents  been  more  lowly  born,  her  keen 
sense  of  propriety  would  have  kept  her  from  telling  her. 
troubles  abroad.  Myrtle  felt  that  she  should  have  gone 
to  a  boarding  school  long  ere  this,  but  Mrs.  Dean, 
knowing  her  desire  to  attend  college,  thwarted  the 
child's  wishes. 

Myrtle,  however,  was  very  fond  of  reading,  and  as 
she  never  selected  any  but  the  best  authors,  the  child 
gained  much  knowledge  notwithstanding  she  was 
debarred  from  school.  Yet  woe  if  Mrs.  Dean  ever  saw 
her  with  a  book.  It  meant  some  new  drudgery  added 
to  the  girl's  life.  Myrtle  performed  the  duties  in  her 
mother's  house  as  one  in  a  treadmill.  To  all  of  Mrs. 
Dean's  cruel  words  she  never  made  reply,  nor  showed 
in  any  way  her  deeply  wounded  heart ;  only  sometimes 
a  dark  flush  would  suffuse  her  sad  face.  When  her 
mother  began  scolding  her:  "Myrtle,  I  have  no  more 
use  for  you  than  I  have  for  the  waifs  on  the  streets." 

Myrtle  would  think:  "She  is  my  mother;  let  her  say 
to  me  what  she  will;  do  to  me  what  she  will;  I  will 
stand  by  the  Bible,  which  teaches  me  to  honor  my 
parents." 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  119 

The  time  bad  been  when  Myrtle  felt  she  could  lay 
her  tired  head  on  Cecil's  loving  breast  and  weep  away 
her  many  sorrows,  but  she  was  too  large  now,  and  there 
was  another  and  greater  reason  that  made  Myrtle  avoid 
Cecil,  an  incomprehensible  fear  came  over  her  when 
ever  she  was  in  his  presence.  "Call  his  love  a  brother's 
if  you  will,  yet  I  would  rather  endure  a  mother's  harshest 
abuses  than  to  accept  his  words  of  affection,"  she 
thought.  * '  I  wonder  if  sorrow  has  taught  me  to  be 
suspicious  and  cold?  And  yet  what  avails  my  fears? 
What  can  I  do?  He  lives  in  the  same  house  with  me; 
I  see  him  wrherever  I  go — if  for  a  walk,  he  is  sure  to 
meet  me  before  I  return  home;  true,  he  does  nothing  I 
can  openly  question,  but  at  times  he  acts  so  strangely. 

Often  he  will  begin  and  say — 'Oh,  Myrtle,  my ' 

and  then  bite  his  lips — his  face  becoming  suddenly 
flushed,  then  he  will  jump  up  and  leave  me  without 
another  word,  not  even  looking  back.  Is  every  one 
bind?  Is  his  wife  blind?  Is  mother  blind?  Is  father 
blind?  Who  sees  my  distress?  Where  shall  I  turn  for 
comfort?  Yet  if  I  had  some  one  to  whom  I  might  pour 
out  my  woes — what  would  I  have  to  tell?  nothing — 
nothing — definite !  Oh,  my  poor  heart,  am  I  becoming 
crazed?" 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  the  time  came  for 
Cecil,  Leita,  and  Myrtle  to  take  their  usual  trip  to 
Florida.  The  day  had  been  when  Myrtle's  heart  leaped 
for  joy  at  the  thought  of  traveling — anywhere,  every 
where,  rather  than  receive  her  mother's  abuse,  but  this 
time  she  shrank  from  going  with  Cecil.  "I  will  beg 
mother  to  let  me  remain  at  home. ' '  Poor  child,  she  did 
not  realize  this  was  the  worst  thing  she  could  do. 
Summoning  all  her  courage,  she  went  to  Mrs.  Dean — • 
"Mother,  please  let  me  stay  at  home,  I  think  perhaps  it 
is  best  that  I  should ;  and  mother,  if  you  knew  my  feel- 


120  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 

ings,  you  would  gladly  let  mo  remain  here.  I  do  not 
care  how  much  work  you  make  me  do,  if  I  can  but  stay 
at  home.  Mother,  I  beg  and  beseech  you  to  grant  my 
request.  I  cannot  go;  oh  mother,  I  must  not  go." 

It  was  not  so  much  the  words  that  Myrtle  used,  but 
her  imploring  accent  that  should  have  touched  the 
hardest  heart ;  yet  strange,  the  mother's  heart  was  not 
touched.  Instead  an  exultant  sneer  came  into  her  face 
as  she  looked  down  upon  Myrtle:  "You  think  it  best 
you  should  remain  at  home?  As  if  your  opinion  would 
weigh  one  second  with  mo.  Oh,  how  delighted  I  am 
to  know  you  do  not  wish  to  go.  I  will  now  take  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  sending  you.  I  have  thought  all 
these  years  you  wanted  to  go.  I  then  would  have  kept 
you  at  home,  but  I  sent  you  merely  to  gratify  Cecil 
and  Leita's  pleasure.  If  you  were  to  stand  and  beg  me 
until  your  head  was  as  white  as  cotton,  I  would  make 
you  go  just  to  see  you  miserable — leave  me,  Idma — 
Idma — yes,  that  is  your  hateful  name— go  from  my 
sight." 

Mrs.  Dean  never  permitted  herself  to  gaze  long  upon 
Myrtle,  for  the  girl's  calm  dignity  seemed  to  unnerve 
her.  Myrtle  turned  away  with  a  deep  sigh:  "Oh, 
what  must  I  do?  shall  I  go  to  my  father?" 

When  Mr.  Dean  returned  home  that  day,  Myrtle 
went  to  him  and  asked  if  she  might  stay  at  home. 
"You  will  have  to  consult  your  mother,  my  daughter 
— whatever  she  says  will  be  perfectly  agreeable  to  me." 

"I  have  been  to  her,  father,  and  she  said  I  must  go." 

"Well,  her  word  should  have  been  sufficient,  my 
child ;  I  am  surprised  and  grieved  that  you  should  have 
come  to  me — once  for  all,  my  daughter,  never  ask  of  me 
anything  your  mother  Las  refused  you.  She  is  always 
with  you,  and  knows  best  what  is  for  37our  good.  Re- 
member,  my  child,  what  I  now  tell  you." 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  121 

Myitle  turned  away  sadly:  "My  doom  is  sealed,  I 
am  compelled  to  go  to  Florida.  Mother,  father,  do 
you  not  see  I  am  in  trouble — where  shall  I  go  for  sym 
pathy  and  love?  My  Maker,  I  call  upon  Thee — have 
mercy  upon  thy  heart-sick  child." 

A  few  weeks  later  Myrtle  was  in  Florida.  She  did 
all  she  could  to  keep  away  from  Cecil,  yet  it  was  of 
little  avail,  for  he  seemed  to  divine  her  meaning  and 
sought  her  companionship  more  than  ever,  trying  to  win 
again  her  trust  and  confidence.  Once  he  had  cried  out 
in  despair:  "Myrtle,  my  pet,  what  have  I  done  to  make 
you  shun  me  as  you  do?  You  cannot  deny  this  state 
ment,  for  you  are  too  conscientious  to  tell  me  an  un 
truth." 

' '  Brother  Cecil,  if  I  have  not  been  a  devoted  sister, 
forgive  me.  I  hope  never  to  be  ungrateful  to  you  for 
all  your  goodness  to  me.  I  know  you  are  the  only 
being  on  earth  who  ever  gave  me  a  kind  word,  yet 
brother •" 

The  words  Myrtle  tried  to  utter  died  upon  her  lips  as 
Leita  drew  near. 

"Cecil,  I  know  of  a  lady  who  lives  about  two  miles 
from  here  who  is  very  ill;  her  husband  has  just  sent  a 
message  to  me,  and  begs  that  I  come  and  help  nurse  his 
wife.  Of  course,  I  cannot  refuse  the  poor  man. 
Myrtle,  I  will  leave  the  keys  with  you,  as  I  do  not 
know  how  long  I  may  be  absent.  Good-by,  husband," 
Cecil  kissed  his  loving,  devoted  wife,  and  helped  her 
into  the  buggy  that  awaited  her  at  the  front  gate.  Was 
the  husband  glad  the  wife  was  gone?  Myrtle's  heart 
beat  quick  and  fast,  and  she  trembled  with  fear  on  see 
ing  Leita  driven  from  home. 

It  was  some  time  after  tea;  the  servants  had  finished 
their  evening  work  about  the  house,  and  had  hastened 
to  their  respective  homes,  which  were  some  distance 
from  the  village  of  E— — . 


122  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

One  by  one  the  passers  had  wended  their  homeward 
way,  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  inmates  of  the  world  had 
suddenly  ceased  to  exist,  and  a  stillness  that  might  al 
most  be  felt  rested  on  the  old  mansion. 

Myrtle  walked  into  the  flower  garden ;  took  her  seat 
under  an  old  rustic  bower  thickly  overgrown  with 
honeysuckles  and  evening-glories.  In  a  half-dreamy 
mood  the  young  girl  caught  some  of  the  pure  blossoms, 
and  twirling  them  in  her  pretty  hands,  twined  them 
with  seeming  unconsciousness  in  her  wavy  dark  hair, 
and  then  in  the  same  thoughtless  fashion  threw  care 
lessly  about  her  bare,  rose-tinted  shoulders  a  long  grace 
ful  vine,  thus  trimming  the  white  simple  dress  she 
wore  in  sylvan  beauty.  The  moon  peeped  here  and 
there  through  the  leafy  bower,  and  casting  her  silver 
rays  upon  the  young  girl  made  her  appear  even  more 
wondrously  beautiful.  Was  ever  "  Cleopatra,  star- 
eyed  Egyptian,  glorious  Sorceress  of  the  Nile"  more 
bewitching  in  her  loveliness?  With  slender,  tapering 
fingers,  Myrtle  put  the  vines  aside  in  her  rustic  bower, 
making  a  leafy  window  through  which  she  might  look 
far-away  to  the  star-flecked  heavens ;  gazing  with  eyes 
that  seemed  not  of  earth,  for  they  were  glowing  with 
dreamy,  angelic  luster.  Verily  she  looked  a  vestal 
virgin  in  her  maidenly  purity. 

"  Chaste  as  the  icicle, 

That's  curdled  by  the  the  frost  from  purest  snow, 
And  hangs  on  Diana's  temple." 

"Ah,"  the  young  girl  murmured,  "I  had  forgotten 
to  day  is  my  birthday — yes,  it  is  the  fated  'Ides  of 
March.'  "  Idma  drew  a  deep  sigh. 

Cecil  stood  unobserved  by  Myrtle  at  the  entrance  of 
the  bower.  He  knew  the  sweet  girl's  fair  brow  would 


THE  IDEB   OF   MARCH.  123 

be  closed  if  he  drew  near,  yet  felt  he  must  speak  to 
her:  "Myrtle,  my  pet " 

The  young  girl  was  startled.  "Cecil,  Cecil,  how 
you  frightened  me!" 

"I  frighten  you,  little  one?  I  who  have  loved  you  all 
these  years ;  I  who  would  live  for  you ;  I  who  would 
die  for  you?  Yes,  Myrtle,  my  darling,  you  are  dearer 
to  me  than  all  the  world  beside. ' ' 

"Hush,  Cecil!  hush!  you  know  not  what  you  are 
saying!" 

Heeding  not  the  girl's  words,  Cecil  fell  on  his  knees 
at  Myrtle's  feet,  and  grasping  her  tiny  white  hands, 
showered  upon  them  ardent  kisses.  Myrtle  shuddered 
and  trembled  as  if  she  had  been  a  frightened  fawn  pur 
sued  by  wicked  hunters.  "Ah,  you  fear  me;  child  I 
will  not  harm  you.  Love  me,  Myrtle,  and  let  me  love 
you.  There  is  no  sin  in  love — my  darling,  you  are  too 
prudent,  too  prudish;  pity  me  Myrtle.  For  years  I 
have  worshipped  you.  When  your  own  mother  de 
spised  you,  I  bsfriended  and  shielded  you.  I  have 
tried  so  hard  to  subdue  my  love,  yet  Myrtle,  your  love 
liness  is  more  than  I  can  resist.  To  possess  you  fair 
one,  I  fain  would  lose  my  soul.  Oh,  Myrtle,  my  darl 
ing,  you  do  not  know  the  days,  months,  and  even  years  I 
have  suffered  in  trying  to  keep  this  love  within  my  own 
breast ;  many  times  have  I  walked  the  floor  at  night 
and  almost  committed  suicide  rather  than  to  tell  you  of 
my  love — but  you  heeded  not  my  sufferings.  You 
shun  me,  for  when  have  you  bestowed  upon  me  the 
sweet  and  loving  caresses  you  were  wont  to  shower 
upon  me  in  your  childhood  days?  Yet,  darling  I  will 
forgive  all  your  past  cruelties,  if  you  will  now,  my  pet, 
love  me.  Oh,  will  you  not,  my  sweet  one?"  and  Cecil 
pressed  Myrtle's  white  hands  to  his  throbbing  bosom, 
as  he  exclaimed  wildly:  "Myrtle,  my  love,  my  all, 


124  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

speak  to  me.  Why  do  you  turn  from  me — do  not 
scorn  me.  Know  you  not  I  am  the  only  one  on  earth 
who  loves  you?" 

"Ah,  Cecil,  Cecil,  would  to  God  I  had  died  before 
this  day — this  fated  'Ides'  had  ever  dawned  upon  me. 
Oh,  man  you  are  crazed,  and  know  not  what  you  say. 
An  evil  spirit  possesses  you.  For  shame,  Cecil,  you 
have  forgotten  JTOU  are  married  to  the  best  woman  yi 
the  world,  who  is  too  pure  herself  to  even  suspect  her 
husband  of  loving  another.  Cecil,  I  was  a  child  when 
I  came  into  this  bower,  but  my  distress  has  made  mo  a 
woman.  You  say  for  years  you  have  loved  me  while 
all  others  despised  me,  and  now  what  do  you  ask  in 
return  for  your  love?  A  love,  Cecil  Clair,  that  before  I 
would  listen  to  it  I  would  fain  sleep  the  sleep  of  death 
and  hide  myself  beneath  the  cold  dark  waves  in  yonder 
lake." 

Myrtle's  calm  sweet  voice  had  almost  subdued  the 
demon  in  Cecil's  breast  and  he  was  about  to  enfold  his 
sister  in  his  brotherly  arms  and  ask  her  forgiveness  when 
the  young  girl  mistook  his  meaning,  and  with  lifted 
arms  which  seemed  moulded  into  perfect  beauty,  waved 
him  away.  As  she  did  so  her  hair  by  some  chance  be 
came  uncoiled  and  flowed  about  her  white  chiselled 
shoulders,  in  dark,  abundant  wavelets — kissing  the 
evening  glories  at  her  feet.  In  her  loveliness  she 
looked  fairer  than  the  fairest  young  Amazon,  as  with 
queenly  dignity  and  eyes  flashing  with  wounded  rage, 
she  seemed  to  scorch  the  poor  wretch  who  lay  at  her 
feet.  In  accent  so  cold  and  icy  that  it  seemed  it  would 
have  chilled  her  own  poor  soul  Idma  cried  : 

"Back.  Cecil,  back;  touch  me  not.  Is  this  your 
boasted  love;  your  brother's  love?  Did  you  try  to 
charm  me  all  these  years,  Cecil,  yet  for  what?  Lo': 
your  aswer  be  before  the  judgment  bar  of  God.  As  an 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  126 

child  you  petted  me;  I  trusted  you  and  loved  you,  but 
oh,  my  poor  heart,  how  have  you  requited  the  love  of  a 
true  sister?  Cecil  Clair,  begone  from  my  sight.  The 
love  I  bore  you  is  turned  to  direst  hatred.  There  is  a 
wide,  deep  gulf  between  us  that  shall  separate  us 
through  all  eternity.  Go,  I  despise  you,  I  loath  you." 

"Woman,  trample  not  the  worm  under  foot,  lest  it 
turn  and  sting  thee! 

"You  say  you  hate  me,  but  I  shall  make  you  love 
me,  sweet  one,"  and  Cecil  drew  near  as  if  to  clasp 
Myrtle  to  his  throbbing  breast. 

The  young  girl  was  too  quick,  for  with  supernatural 
fleetness  she  flew  by  Cecil,  leaving  him  stamping  his 
foot  upon  the  ground  and  grinding  his  teeth  with  furi 
ous  rage.  Myrtle  ran  to  her  room  and  tried  to  lock  her 
door,  but  remembered  the  key  was  broken.  What  shall 
I  do?  Oh,  if  Leita  were  here.  But  must  I  tell  a  wife 
of  her  husband's  perfidy  and  forever  make  her  misera- 
Ibe?  oSTo,  I  could  not  blight  her  happiness.  What  is 
left  me?  Love  him?  No!  Oh,  my  Father,  never, 
never,  a  thousand  times,  never!"  and  the  poor  girl 
walked  the  floor  and  tore  her  hair  in  wild  despair. 

She  tried  to  pray,  but  knew  not  how  to  frame  her 
sentences;  she  went  to  the  window  and  there  saw  near 
by  the  broad,  placid  lake.  As  she  stood  with  beating 
heart,  looking  to  the  faraway  sky  there  gradually 
came  over  her  beautiful  face  a  calm,  peaceful  smile. 
A  moment  later  she  went  to  her  writing  desk,  and  tak 
ing  up  pen  wrote  a  hasty  note.  Then  she  wrent  to  her 
bureau  drawer  and  drew  forth  a  spotless  white  robe, 
with  neck  and  sleeves  of  finest  lace.  This  she  hurriedly 
put  on,  after  which  she  combed  her  soft  tangled  tresses. 

"Oh,  here  are  \vhito  himy,"  and  tlie  young  girl  took 
the  fresh  roses  and  entwined  them  in  her  long  silken 
hair  and  then  pinning  some  flowers  on  her  bosom,  rm;r- 


126  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

mured :  ' '  There,  this  will  do,  I  will  meet  my  Saviour 
adorned  in  spotless  white — but  ah,  me — the  soul  is  what 
he  wants  pure,  and  she  knelt  reverently  by  the  side  of 
her  bed.  Not  one  word  did  she  speak ;  only  the  fair 
lips  moved;  the  sweet  face  was  turned  heavenward; 
the  small  tapering  fingers  were  clasped  over  her  white 
bosom ;  and  the  lamplight  with  its  deep  orange  shade 
cast  a  mellow  glow  about  the  fair  angelic  form.  There 
was  at  that  moment  only  a  faint  zephyr,  yet  it  was 
sufficient  to  turn  the  shutters  of  the  blind  next  to  the 
front  garden.  At  the  same  time  some  one  passed  by 
the  window  and  stopped.  Myrtle  knew  it  not,  for  she 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  sad  past  as  she  held  sweet 
communion  with  her  God.  When  she  rose,  she  took  her 
Bible  and  kissed  it.  As  she  did  so  her  form  was  reflect 
ed  in  the  long  beveled  mirror,  and  the  young  girl  smiled 
at  sight  of  her  pale  face  which  seemed  more  akin  to 
tears  than  gladness.  She  then  passed  from  her  room, 
leaving  her  door  ajar. 

But  where  was  Cecil.  After  Myrtle  left  him,  he  was 
for  a  time  a  raging  lion,  not  knowing  what  he  did, 
and  caring  less  for  what  he  might  do.  He  looked  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  for  Myrtle,  but  found  her  not. 

"Where  could  she  have  gone?  but  I  will  find  her. 
How  dare  she  scorn  me?  Ah,  it  shall  not  be!" 

He  searched  the  yard  over  many  times,  and  had  al 
most  despaired  of  finding  his  treasure,  when  he  happened 
at  this  moment  to  hear  the  shutters  to  Myrtle's  blinds 
as  they  turned,  when  with  one  quick  glance  Cecil  saw 
Myrtle's  kneeling  form  which  seemed  in  its  maidenly 
loveliness  more  than  an  angel's. 

It  was  enough — the  demon  suddenly  left  the  crazed 
man  when  he  saw  Myrtle  praying.  "My  God!  My 
God !  forgive  me.  I  shall  go  at  once  and  kneel  by  her 
side — but  no,  I  would  frighten  her.  And  she  could  not 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  12? 

believe  I  had  so  soon  repented.  I  will  remain  out  here, 
and  maybe  she  will  soon  sleep  and  forget  her  troubles. ' ' 
Cecil  walked  about  the  garden  for  some  time,  and 
wondered  what  it  was  best  for  him  to  do. 

"I  said  she  would  sleep — no,  no;  Myrtle  will  not 
sleep  to-night — I  know  too  well  her  sensitive  nature. 
Cursed  dog  that  I  am,  what  shall  I  do?  what  course 
shall  I  pursue?  Nothing  remains  for  me  to  do  but  go 
and  implore  her  forgiveness.  I  will  delay  no  longer." 
With  light,  cautious  steps  Cecil  went  to  Myrtle's  door 
and  knocked  gently,  receiving  no  answer  he  knocked 
again — still  no  answer. 

"Myrtle,  forgive  me,  child,  do  not  fear  to  answer  me." 
Awaiting  a  few  seconds,  he  called  again — '"Myrtle, 
Myrtle."  Can  it  be  possible  she  is  not  in  her  room? 
"Myrtle,  please  answer  me;  I  am  coming  in  if  you  do 
not.  I  am  your  brother  again,  child ;  your  brother  for 
ever,  sister,"  and  Cecil  pushed  open  the  door.  One 
glance  was  sufficient  to  show  him  Myrtle  was  gone. 
Cecil  was  about  to  leave  the  room  when  his  eyes  acci 
dentally  fell  upon  a  note  lying  on  the  table  addressed  to 
him.  With  trembling  hands  he  broke  the  seal : 

"DEAR  BROTHER  CECIL:  You  saved  my  life  once, 
I  save  yours  now ;  may  you  yet  live  to  be  noble  and 
true.  I  lay  down  my  life  gladly  that  others  may  abide 
in  happiness  and  peace.  Good-by — where  will  your 
little  sister  be  when  you  read  this?  God  be  with  you, 
and  bless  and  forgive  you,  as  I  do. 

"MYRTLE." 

As  Cecil  read  the  note,  each  word  seemed  a  coal  of 
fire  burning  his  innermost  soul.  Rushing  from  the 
room  he  cried :  ' '  Fool,  villain  that  I  am.  What  have 
I  done?  Oh,  that  some  one  would  shoot  me  in  my 
tracks.  Myrtle,  Myrtle,"  and  the  echo  resounded  her 


128  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

name,  as  if  to  mock  and  taunt  him:  "Where  shall  I 
find  her?  Ah,  to  the  lake  she  must  have  gone,  for  did 
she  not  say  something  about  sleeping  beneath  its  blue 
waves  rather  than  love  me?  Thither  I  will  fly  to  her 
rescue." 

Myrtle,  after  leaving  her  room,  had  walked  down  the 
back  steps,  and  wended  her  way  to  the  water's  edge. 
"I  must  get  heavy  weights  and  tie  them  to  my  body  so 
that  I  shall  never  rise,  for  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to  gaze 
upon  my  face  in  death.  I  will  take  a  boat  and  row  to 
the  deepest  place — and  then  the  plunge  of  death — death, 
did  I  say?  My  Father,  what  am  I  about  to  do?  Is  it 
wrong  to  die  but  as  thou  shouldst  call  us?  I  care  not 
to  live;  life  is  a  weary  burden.  My  Creator,  my 
Maker,  teach  me  my  duty.  Death  is  nothing,  it  is  the 
hereafter.  Can  I,  oh  God,  stand  in  thy  sight  blame 
less  if  I  die  by  my  own  hands?" 

Myrtle  looked  beyond  the  wide,  deep  lake  and  then 
gazed  upward  at  the  cold,  gray  sky.  A  cloud  seemed 
to  hide  the  pale  moon  from  the  young  girl's  eyes,  as 
she  cried:  "Oh,  mother,  you  were  right,  'Idma,' 
'Idma',  is  the  name  I  should  bear,  for  my  life  is  indeed 
one  dark  night;  surely  I  am  the  child  of  the  fated  Ides! 
My  Father,  hide  not  thy  face  from  me  lest  I  die — what! 
I  cannot  breathe,  I  am  suffocating,  and  why  this  sudden 
horrible  pain  at  my  heart?"  She  tore  the  dainty  robe 
from  her,  thus  disclosing  her  white  chiselled  shoulders. 
The  flowers  she  wore  fell  at  her  feet,  and  were  bathed  in 
the  cold  limpid  lake.  The  night  winds  caught  her 
long  dark  tresses,  and  blew  them  about  her  faultless 
form  in  wild  dishevelment.  Her  tiny  slippers  were 
filled  with  the  sand  and  pebbles  of  the  lake,  but  she 
felt  it  not.  On,  on,  she  MTent,  muttering  to  herself: 
"Father,  pity,  pity,  oh  pity."  Her  bands  were  blue 
from  being  clinched  so  tightly,  and  sinking  down  upon 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  129 

the  white  sand  she  prayed — "My  God,  my  Maker, 
show  me  what  to  do?  My  Redeemer,  my  Saviour- 
hush  !  hark !  I  hear  a  sound.  No,  it  is  but  the  wild 
beating  of  rny  throbbing  heart. ' ' 

"Myrtle,  Myrtle!" 

"My  Maker,  it  is 'he!'"  The  young  girl  tried  to 
scream,  but  could  not  utter  a  sound ;  tried  to  move,  but 
was  rooted  to  the  ground. 

Suddenly  everything  became  dark  as  night,  and  a 
fearful  dizziness  came  over  her.  "Myrtle,  Myrtle,  my 
sweet  one,"  and  then  ardent  kisses  were  showered  upon 
her  cold,  white  forehead.  With  a  low  moan  Myrtle 
reeled  and  felt  herself  clasped  in  Cecil  Glair's  strong 
arms.  The  poor  girl  struggled,  yet  it  was  of  little 
avail;  her  head  fell  back  and  she  knew  no  more.  A 
deathlike  swoon  had  come  upon  the  ill-fated  girl,  and 
Idma,  the  child  of  the  'Ides'  lay  cold  and  unconscious 
in  Cecil's  embrace! 


130  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  Come  wander  with  me  for  the  moonbeams  are  bright, 
On  river  and  forest,  o'er  mountain  and  lea." 

— Jeffreys. 

THE  6th  of  June,  the  day  Genevieve  had  appointed 
for  the  picnic  at  Mount  Vernon,  in  Edith's  honor, 
dawned  bright  and  clear.  Promptly  at  7  o'clock  Ray 
mond  rang  Mrs.  Greyon's  door-bell,  having  come  to 
escort  Edith  and  Genevieve  on  this  joyous  occasion. 
The  young  folks  did  not  dwell  on  serious  thoughts,  but 
seemed  to  sip  the  sweet  nectar  and  enjoyment  of  buoy 
ant  youth,  and  as  the  day  wore  away  happiness  in 
creased  with  each  hour,  yet  as  pleasure  does  not  abate 
the  appetite,  but  rather  increases  the  desire  for  food,  all 
soon  become  so  hungry  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
the  artist  prevailed  upon  the  party  to  group  themselves 
for  a  picture.  This  task  having  been  completed,  the 
chaperons  spread  the  white  tablecloth  on  the  green 
grass  to  receive  the  many  good  things — nice  fried 
spring  chicken;  deviled  ham;  hard-boiled  eggs,  bar 
becued  pig;  deviled  crabs;  boiled  ham;  sweet  peach 
pickles;  bread  of  every  description;  salads  of  every 
variety;  cakes,  custards,  and  pies  to  suit  the  appetite  of 
the  most  fastidious  epicure;  ice-cold  lemonade;  rasp 
berries  ;  ice  cream ;  candies.  It  was  just  such  a  lunch 
as  would  have  made  a  hungry  schoolboy  leap  for  joy, 
and  wish  for  a  picnic  every  day  in  the  }Tear. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  131 

Raymond  was  very  attentive  to  Edith,  and  continu 
ally  handed  her  things  which  he  thought  she  would 
relish;  yet  he  himself  appeared  to  have  lost  his  appe 
tite.  Edith's  quick  eye  observing  this,  she  commenced 
to  tease  him:  "You  must  be  in  love  Mr.  Felix?  It  is 
said  people  in  love  do  not  eat  much,  if  this  be  true,  I 
am  certainly  not  in  love,  for  I  never  was  so  hungry  as 
now, ' '  and  as  she  spoke  she  turned  her  sweet,  blue  eyes 
upon  Raymond  with  bewitching  sauciness.  "Ha! 
ha!  in  love  Mr.  Felix,  in  love!" 

Raymond's  dark  eyes  searched  and  pierced  Edith's 
heart  as  he  looked  into  her  face.  "Be  it  so,  Miss  De- 
Long,  but  as  you  are  so  wise  it  is  strange  your  wisdom 
has  not  taught  you  whom  I  love."  Edith's  face  be 
came  suffused  with  blushes.  She  tried  in  vain  to  hide 
her  countenance  from  Raymond's  earnest  gaze,  and  it 
wras  with  some  effort  that  she  continued  to  eat  her  lunch, 
which  was  now  being  partaken  of  in  a  subdued,  quiet 
way. 

"Ah,"  thought  Raymond,  "I  knew  she  could  be 
sober  notwithstanding  her  merriment  and  fun ;  for  there 
is  an  undercurrent  of  thoughtfulness  about  her  that 
makes  her  the  jewel  she  is." 

Luncheon  being  over,  Raymond  filled  an  old-fash 
ioned  gourd  with  cool  water,  and  poured  it  upon  Edith's 
white  hands,  giving  her  at  the  same  time  his  large  silk 
handkerchief  that  she  might  dry  them.  "Come,  Miss 
Edith,  you  have  yet  to  see  the  spot  where  Washington 
rests.  Suppose  we  go  now  to  where  his  body  first  lay 
entombed."  As  it  was  but  a  short  walk,  the  young 
couple  soon  stood  before  a  cavity  that  appeared  to  have 
been  dug  in  the  mountain  side.  It  was  a  small  vault 
bricked  under  and  above  the  ground,  fast  filling  with 
leaves  and  earth.  "Miss  Edith,  there  is  nothing  to  be 
seen  here,  let  us  walk  to  the  hero's  present  vault." 


132  THE   IDES   OF  MARCH. 

"I  will  be  ready  as  soon  as  I  pick  up  one  of  these 
leaves  from  our  great  general's  tomb." 

"I  will  get  it  for  you?"  said  Raymond. 

"No,  I  thank  you,  I  prefer  getting  it  myself,  for  I 
wish  to  say  Edith  DeLong  picked  up  the  leaf,  and  not 
that  Raymond  Felix  did,"  and  quick  as  thought,  Edith 
stooped  and  picked  a  large  green  leaf,  which  she  en 
twined  with  some  of  the  long  verdant  grasses  that 
waved  at  her  feet.  "Now  I  am  ready  to  go,  Mr.. 
Felix."  The  young  people  walked  until  they  came  in 
front  of  a  large  vault,  which  was  closed  by  a  massive 
iron  gate,  and  looking  through  the  grating,  they  could 
see  two  sarcophagi  containing  the  ashes  of  George  and 
Martha  Washington.  Raymond  took  his  hat  from  his 
head,  and  stood  reverently  before  the  vault,  for  he  felt 
he  was  in  the  presence  of  one  who  although  dead,  yet 
lives  through  the  good  he  did,  and  would  live  through 
all  eternity.  Each  day  in  the  years  to  come  would  sons 
of  America  stand  where  he  now  stood,  and  as  they 
thought  of  the  pure  life  of  their  great  commander, 
would  themselves  determine  to  live  better  lives;  for 
they  must  feel  that  this  present  existence  is  not  all  of 
life,  but  that  righteousness  and  purity  of  character  shall 
live  in  the  memory  of  mankind  long  after  we  lay  cold 
in  death. 

Edith  stood  near  Raymond.  She  too  was  thinking, 
but  such  thoughts  as  were  more  in  keeping  with  a 
woman's  emotions.  "This  is  his  wife  who  now  sleeps 
by  his  side,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  she  loved  and 
esteemed  him  so  highly  that  no  task  was  a  burden  to 
her  when  performed  for  him.  I  do  not  suppose  she 
ever  had  a  thought  of  self,  for  it  was  ever  her  desire  to 
please  and  make  her  husband  happy.  When  he  be 
came  disheartened,  her  words  of  love  and  encourage 
ment  spurred  him  on  to  greater  deeds  of  victory." 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  133 

Neither  of  the  young  people  had  spoken  for  several 
minutes— at  last  Raymond  broke  the  silence:  "Miss 
Edith,  I  suppose  you  know  that  the  sarcophagi  rest  on 
electric  wires  extending  to  the  house,  to  which  are  at 
tached  bells  that  give  the  alarm  to  inmates  in  the  house, 
should  robbers  ever  try  to  desecrate  the  tomb?  The 
gate  is  locked,  and  I  am  told  the  key  is  thrown  in  the 
Potomac  River.  But  come  with  me,  Miss  Edith,  I 
know  you  are  tired ;  you  have  not  stopped  one  minute 
to-day.  The  lovers  then  strolled  here  and  there  over 
the  green  mountain  side,  trying  to  find  a  suitable  place 
to  rest.  At  last,  from  the  gaze  of  any  one,  they  sat 
beneath  an  old  oak  tree,  whose  drooping  branches 
waved  just  above  the  long  grassy  turf. 

Edith  wore  a  simple  lawn  which  was  cool  and  picnic- 
like,  and  her  large  white  leghorn  hat  was  trimmed  in 
dainty  primroses.  Her  hair  had  not  been  arranged 
since  early  morn,  and  as  she  took  her  hat  in  her  hands, 
little  golden  ringlets  stole  here  and  there  over  her  pretty 
head,  making  her  even  more  betwitchingly  picturesque 
than  was  her  usual  wont.  And  her  ruby,  pouting  lips, 
dark  violet  eyes,  and  dimpled  face  made  her  to  look 
almost  childlike.  Yet  Edith  was  a  woman  who  com 
bined  with  her  gentle  nature  a  saucy  piquancy,  which 
irresistable  charm  added  much  to  her  already  fascinat 
ing  qualities ;  hence  she  was  easily  the  pet  in  all  ele 
gant  society.  As  Raymond  sat  near  Edith  and  looked 
into  her  sweet,  girlish  face,  he  felt  he  would  give  the 
world  if  he  could  possess  her  as  his  own.  "But,  dare 
I  tell  her  of  my  love?"  and  his  handsome  face  suddenly 
became  saddened.  Edith  perceived  his  changed  expres 
sion:  "Why,  Mr.  Felix,  what  is  the  matter?  Lately 
every  time  I  have  been  with  you,  your  face  has  become 
so  long  and  woebegone  that  I  have  about  decided  to 
cut  your  acquaintance ;  for  I  do  not  care  to  be  such  a 


184  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

dreadful  bore.  I  believe  I  will  leave  you  this  minute 
to  your  own  meditations — What  say  you?  Will  you 
be  happy  then?"  and  she  gave  her  head  a  pretty  toss, 
and  a  twinkle  of  merriment  came  into  her  mischievous 
blue  eyes. 

\  "Tell  me  quickly,  am  I  the  cause  of  your  discomfi 
ture?  Mother  says  I  am  her  sunshine,  but  I  must  be 
your  cloud  of  darkness ;  unless  perhaps  you  have  heard 
sad  news  from  home?  but  excuse  me,  I  did  not  wish  to 
be  rude."  For  Edith  saw  Raymond's  face  grow  darker 
and  more  sad  the  longer  she  spoke.  She  determined 
not  to  say  another  word,  and  await  the  young  man's 
answer. 

"Hear  me,  Miss  Edith,"  and  Raymond's  voice  grew 
tender  and  low.  ' '  Many  years  ago  my  father  took  me  to 
a  little  village  in  the  far  South,  what  his  mission  was 
I  never  knew,  but  while  there  a  good  lad}"  died  who 
had  been  the  wife  of  his  best  friend.  I  was  taken  to 
the  funeral,  and  after  the  poor  woman  had  been  buried, 
father  requested  me  to  put  some  flowers  that  he  had 
brought  on  her  grave.  I  obeyed  my  father's  com 
mands,  and  as  I  did  so  a  little  girl  with  dark  blue  eyes 
and  golden  curls  came  also  and  scattered  white  roses 
about  the  newly  made  mound.  I  saw  her  only  for  a 
moment,  yet  it  was  sufficient  time  to  impress  her  kr>,  e- 
liness  indelibly  on  my  mind,  for  I  have  seen  her  face 
ever  afterward  in  my  dreams.  I  endeavored  to  forget 
her,  yet  perceiving  this  to  be  impossible  tried  to  find 
her.  But  as  the  years  passed  by,  I  despaired  of  seeing 
my  sweet  treasure,  and  hope  failing  me,  I  grew  weary 
of  life  and  fell  sick.  It  was  then  that  father  sent  me 
to  this  place,  thinking  a  change  would  help  me. 
Gradually  I  became  worse  until  one  day  all  unexpectedly 
I  found  my  blue-eyed  angel  a  child  no  longer,  but  a 
woman  beautiful  and  fair;  and  although  sweet  and 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  135 

pure  yet  in  one  thing,  she  was  cruel — she  laughed  her 
lovers  to  scorn,  and  in  her  glee  and  fun  saw  not  at  her 
feet  a  heart  bleeding  and  torn.  Ah,  fair  creature,  won 
der  not  I  am  tortured.  Mercy,  mercy,  sweet  Edith,  ere 
I  die!" 

The  merriment  in  Edith's  sweet  girlish  face  changed 
to  a  crimson  blush.  Tear  hiding  beneath  the  long 
silken  lashes,  stealing  by  roses  and  dimples  in  the 
round  baby-like  cheek,  fell  in  dewy  pearls  upon 
her  soft  white  hands.  Raymond  observing  the  young 
girl's  emotion,  exclaimed:  "God  be  praised,  Edith,  my 
darling,  my  all !  you  sympathize  with  me,  and  pity  is 
akin  to  love.  Ah,  my  angel,  with  your  love,  I  will 
never  more  be  sad,  but  will  be  happy  ever,  even  as  you 
are." 

As  he  spoke,  he  took  the  little  dimpled  hand  in  his, 
and  if  Edith  thought  this  a  sin,  she  just  let  herself  sin. 
She  knew  Raymond  loved  her,  and  felt  assured  it  was 
impossible  for  Raymond  Felix  to  be  a  flirt.  Yes,  she 
knew  furthermore,  she  loved  him,  and  oh,  how  happy 
she  was  she  could  never,  never  tell. 

"He  loves  me!" 

The  old  boat  blew  shrilly,  for  it  wras  now  time  for 
the  picnic  party  to  return  home.  Edith  and  Raymond 
had  forgotten  they  lived  on  earth,  and  now  to  come 
back  to  the  wTorld  and  mix  and  mingle  with  common 
humanity  was  just  a  little  more  than  they  could  pa 
tiently  endure ;  and  then  she,  sweet  girl,  imagined  every 
one  was  gazing  upon  her,  and  knew  every  word  that 
Raymond  had  said  to  her.  Seeing  Genevieve  was  but  to 
make  the  blushes  come  thick  and  fast  in  Edith's  cheeks. 
Genevieve  glanced  significantly  first  at  Edith  and  then 
at  Raymond.  She  said  nothing,  but  smiled  and  looked 
exceedingly  wir.y,  "No  one  need  tell  me  he  has  made 
love  to  her,  their  shy  tender  glances  are  sufficient  tell- 


136  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

tales,"  and  Genevieve  appeared  to  bo  as  happy  as  the 
two  lovers ;  yet  her  joy  was  a  different  happiness.  But 
why  tell  you,  reader,  you  remember  only  too  well  the 
rapturous  bliss  you  felt  when  first  the  pure  bud  of  love 
bloomed  in  your  breast,  blinding  your  eyes  with  sweet 
roseate  hues;  making  you  to  feel,  when  slain  by  Cupid's 
arrows,  if  this  be  death  how  sweet  a  thing  it  is  to  .die! 
As  Edith  walked  into  the  boat  that  evening,  she 
thought,  "Good-by,  dear  old  Mount  Vernon,  this  has 
been  the  happiest  day  of  all  my  life ;  when  I  am  old 
and  forget  everything  else,  this  day  shall  be  ever  fresh 
in  my  memory." 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  137 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Which  way  shall  I  fly, 
Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair  ? 
Which  way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am  hell ; 
And,  in  the  lowest  deep,  a  lower  deep, 
Still  threatening  to  drown  me,  opens  wide, 
To  which  the  hell  I  suffer  seems  a  heaven. 

— Milton. 

CECIL  taking  Myrtle  in  his  strong  arms  as  if  she 
were  a  tiny  babe  carried  her  to  her  own  room,  and  laid 
her  on  her  bed.  "Oh,  how  mean  and  degraded  I  feel. 
Cursed  be  the  day  on  which  I  was  born.  What  evil 
demon  for  a  moment  possessed  me  to  wish  to  harm  her 
who  is  as  lovely  as  the  angels  of  heaven?  To  first  gain 
her  trusting  love  and  then  evermore  to  experience  her 
scorn,  for  I  know  she  will  despise  me  all  the  remainder 
of  my  life.  Myrtle,  Myrtle,  my  child,  forgive  me. 
Open  your  sad  eyes  once  more  and  let  me  declare  to 
you  by  all  that  is  pure  and  holy  that  I  will  live  a  life 
that  even  you  will  say  is  worthily  spent." 

As  he  spoke  the  frenzied  man  bathed  the  white  face 
and  hands  of  the  unconscious  girl,  but  it  seemed  to  do 
no  good,  for  Myrtle  continued  to  murmur  in  her  de 
lirium — 

"Shall— I- die?  Shall— I— live?  Oh,  Cecil— Cecil 
— my  brother — brother!  Good — brother;  no — no — • 
no--!" 

And  the  poor  girl  gave  a  heartrending  sliriek. 
Cecil  felt  that  he  could  not  endure  to  hear  Myrtle's  sad 


138  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

reproaches  longer,  so  kneeling  beside  her  bed,  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  moaned  in  despair : 

"Oh,  Myrtle,  Myrtle,  kill  me,  murder  me,  do  any 
thing  you  will,  only  open  your  e}Tes  once  more  so  that 
I  may  tell  you  the  truth." 

It  was  far  into  the  next  day;  Cecil  wished  to  go  for 
a  doctor,  yet  there  was  no  one  with  whom  he  could 
leave  Myrtle — it  so  happening  the  servant  was  sick 
that  morning,  and  Leita  had  not  yet  returned  home. 
"If  I  leave  her,  consciousness  may  return,  and  she 
might  end  her  life  ere  I  come  back,  so  I  will  stay  near 
by  her,  God  helping  me." 

Patiently  Cecil  watched  by  the  fair  creature's  bed 
side,  and  the  anguish  he  experienced  was  no  more  than 
he  felt  he  justly  deserved.  Later  on  in  the  day,  Myrtle 
slept  more  peacefully,  and  a  few  moments  after,  she 
opened  her  sad,  dark  eyes.  Cecil  could  not  meet  her 
gaze,  try  as  he  would.  The  poor  girl  sat  up  in  bed  and 
looked  wildly  about  her,  forgetting  where  she  was  or 
what  had  happened ;  then  suddenly  the  horrors  of  the 
past  night  flashed  vividly  across  her  mind — with  a  low 
moan  she  sank  again  on  her  pillow,  and  incoherent 
words  mingled  with  heartrending  sobs  came  to  Cecil's 
ear:  "Ah — my — Maker,  my  Creator. " 

"Myrtle,  Myrtle,  my  child,  rest  easy  I  know  you  hate 
me — you  have  a  right  to  do  so,  but  believe  me  for  your 
own  sake  when  I  say  you  are  the  same  sweet  Myrtle  you 
have  ever  boen.  Oh,  Myrtle,  forgiA'e.  forgive  me,  if 
you  can,  and  forget  the  words  I  uttered  last  night — kill 
me,  dog  that  I  am,  but  my  child,  I  now  humbly  plead 
and  implore  your  forgiveness!" 

Myitle  wept  and  sobbed  in  her  anguish.  Cecil  AVI  pod 
her  fast  flowing  tears,  but  he  did  not  kiss  or  call  her 
endearing  names  for  fear  she  would  misconstrue  his 
meaning  j  he  only  wished  to  convince  her  that  he  had 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  159 

deeply  repented  his  misdemeanor,  and  would  never 
again  speak  as  he  had  once  spoken.  Yet  how  he  would 
ever  make  her  believe  in  him  again  he  did  not  know. 

"Brother  Cecil,  please  leave  me,  I  wish  to  be  alone." 

"Myrtle,  my  child,  I  know  you  think  I  am  an  in 
truder,  but  I  am  here  to  watch  you  that  you  do  nothing 
rash.  If  you  promise  me  not  to  harm  yourself,  I  will 
go  as  you  have  commanded." 

"Cecil,  do  not  fear  that  I  will  do  myself  injury,  for 
had  I  not  felt  that  it  was  wrong  in  the  sight  of  God  to 
commit  suicide,  I,  would  have  been  dead  ere  this  day 
dawned  upon  my  luckless  head.  Go,  leave  me,  I  en 
treat  you!" 

Cecil  felt  words  were  useless  now;  that  it  would 
take  many  years  to  prove  to  Myrtle  his  deep  contrition ; 
the  sad  man  then  arose  and  left  her  room.  Myrtle  on 
being  left  alone,  gave  vent  to  a  fresh  flood  of  grief. 
'My  Maker,  the  fearful  dream  I  had!  Where  shall  I 
flee?  There  is  not  one  person  in  the  wide,  wide  world 
to  whom  I  might  go  and  find  comfort — my  mother,  the 
one  who  should  have  protected  me,  sent  me  here,  and 
she  would  scorn  and  hate  me ;  and  how  shall  I  ever 
know  Cecil  told  me  the  truth?  I  have  only  his  word, 
and  how  can  I  believe  him?  Oh,  my  Saviour,  my  Re 
deemer,  I  have  tried  so  hard  all  my  life  to  do  that 
which  was  right  in  Thy  sight ;  why  must  I  endure  tor 
ture,  while  others  go  free.  Father,  let  me  die,  let  me 
die!" 

The  poor  girl  fell  on  her  knees,  and  poured  out  her 
soul  to  Him  who  alone  can  heal  the  broken-hearted ;  and 
then  with  a  sigh  that  was  more  akin  to  a  moan,  she 
arose  and  dressed  herself. 

As  she  v.-ont  before  the  large  mirror  to  arrange  her 
beautiful  hair,  she  started  back— -"Is  this  Myrtle?  no- 
no — Itima,  Idirui  i%  my  name  I  yet  why  did  not  my 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH. 


Brutus  slay  me,  and  thus  once  for  all  end  my  mis 
ery?" 

Many  days  passed  ere  Cecil  and  Myrtle  were  again 
alone;  Myrtle  having  avoided  her  brother,  and  Cecil 
determining  not  to  thrust  himself  upon  one  whom  he 
knew  despised  him ;  then  again  he  felt  ' '  I  know  now 
how  easily  I  can  do  wrong;  hence  I  must  be  ever 
watchful  lest  I  fall  into  sin." 

Persons  living  in  the  same  house  are  almost  sure  to 
be  thrown  into  each  other's  society  sooner  or  later. 
Leita,  Cecil,  and  Myrtle  were  all  sitting  together  in  the 
front  yard,  when  one  of  the  servants  called  Leita.  The 
wife  arose  immediately  and  walked  away,  leaving 
Cecil  and  Myrtle  face  to  face  for  the  first  time  since 
their  fearful  experience.  Neither  spoke  for  some  time. 
Cecil  wished  that  Myrtle  might  break  the  silence,  for 
he  knew  not  what  to  say;  but  she  seemed  lost  in  her 
own  meditations.  "I  know  she  loathes  me. "  At  last 
he  said:  ''Myrtle,  for  Heaven's  sake  do  not  look  as  if 
you  were  not  going  to  forgive  me.  '  To  err  is  human ; 
to  forgive  divine.'  ; 

"Yes,  Cecil,  but  I  am  not  divine;  divinity  alone  can 
forgive  you  Cecil.  Ask  pardon  at  the  throne  of  grace 
— let  me  be — the  sooner  I  die,  the  better;  but  if  I  must 
live,  I  ask  one  favor  of  you — please  persuade  my 
mother  to  send  me  to  boarding  school,  for  I  dare  not 
face  my  parents  from  day  to  day;  neither  do  I  think  I 
should  remain  \vhere  your  wife  is;  and  you  know  it  is 
best  I  should  not  see  you.  Hence,  if  you  have  any  pity 
whatever  in  your  heart  plead  with  my  mother  to  send 
me  to  a  boarding  school.  If  I  must  endure  torture,  let 
me  be  with  those  that  do  not  know  me;  and  perhaps 
life  can  be  better  borne  among  new  scenes  and  strange 
faces.  There  is  no  use  for  me  to  ask  mother  to  let  me 
go  to  school,  for  I  have  made  the  request  of  her  many 


THE   IDES  OF    MARCH.  141 

times,  and  her  answer  is  ever:  'No,  indeed,  I  wish  you 
to  remain  ignorant ;  it  is  in  keeping  with  your  mean 
ness.  '  But  God  being  my  helper,  I  will  endeavor  to 
rise  above  everything  that  would  drag  me  downward. 
My  Maker  knows  that  I  have  ever  tried  to  do  that 
which  was  right,  hence  I  can  still  ask  His  help— if  God 
be  for  me,  who  can  be  against  me?" 

Myrtle  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  brother's  pres 
ence,  and  talked  with  herself.  Cecil's  cheeks  burned 
with  shame:  "If  I  could  only  undo  what  I  have  done; 
but  it  is  too  late !  too  late !  Where  do  you  wish  to  go, 
Myrtle?" 

"I  would  like  to  go  to  Europe,  but  of  course  this  is 
impossible.  I  would  go  North — somewhere — anywhere 
— so  that  I  fly  wrhere  I  am  not  known." 

"When  do  you  wish  to  leave?" 

"To-day,  if  I  might  get  off." 

"Myrtle,  to  go  soon  is  out  of  the  question;  you 
would  be  obliged  to  have  your  clothing  made  before 
leaving,  and  in  order  to  do  this,  we  shall  have  to  return 
home  immediately,  which  is  impossible;  I  think  it  is 
best  for  you  to  stay  here  a  few  more  weeks,  and  then 
when  we  return  home,  I  will  persuade  your  mother  to 
let  you  go  to  school. ' ' 

Cecil  thought,  "I  will  prove  to  her  before  she  leaves 
that  there  is  still  some  good  in  me  if  I  did  at  on«  time 
forget  to  be  a  gentleman." 

Myrtle  replied:  "I  can  only  submit  to  the  inevitable, 
brother  Cecil,  and  abide  by  the  whims  of  —  Leita 
coming  into  the  yard  at  this  moment  the  conversation 
between  brother  and  sister  was  abruptly  broken  off. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  from  this  time  forth,  Cecil 
became  one  of  the  most  devoted  husbands.  Each  even 
ing  he  would  come  and  take  his  wife  for  a  drive.  De 
luded  woman,  she  knew  not  in  her  joy  that  she  should 


142  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

thank  Myrtle  for  her  happiness.  Some  days  when  the 
wife  was  very  busy,  she  would  insist  on  Myrtle's  going 
driving  with  Cecil.  Myrtle  would  tell  her  sister  that 
Bhe  would  do  her  work  and  let  her  go,  but  Leita  would 
never  consent  to  leaving  her  homo  duties  to  another, 
and  Myrtle,  unable  to  find  a  proper  excuse,  felt  compelled 
to  go  driving  writh  Cecil,  whom  she  feared  more  than 
death.  Myrtle's  mental  sufferings  on  these  trips  were 
beyond  description.  She  would  tremble  and  her  heart 
beat  loudly,  for  she  knew  she  was  miles  and  miles  away 
from  any  human  soul.  It  was  on  these  occasions 
Myrtle  would  cry:  "Brother  Cecil,  pity — pity,  have 
mercy,  only  mercy!  Oh,  my  brother,  why  do  you 
bring  me  here?" 

"Ah!  Myrtle,  I  know  you  hate  and  despise  me  for 
bringing  you  here,  but  I  would  prove  to  you,  child, 
that  I  am  still  your  loving  brother,"  and  Cecil  would 
wipe  the  cold  dews  from  his  damp  brow. 

"Myrtle,  why  do  you  tremble?  Shall  my  one  mis 
take  never  be  forgotten?"  Cecil's  intentions  were  the 
purest,  but  the  torture  that  came  to  poor  Myrtle's  soul 
was  indescribable,  for  that  one  dreadful  night  came 
afresh  to  her  mind  ever}7  time  she  was  taken  upon  those 
desolate  drives.  "  If  I  can  but  gain  her  confidence  once 
more,  she  will  then  cease  to  fear  me,  and  her  life  will 
begin  to  be  happy;  yet  she  seems  to  misconstrue  my 
good  intentions,  and  mortal  fear  has  taken  the  place  of 
the  sweet  childish  trust  she  once  gave  me ;  but  what 
more  can  I  expect — do  I  not  know  'the  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard.'  Oh  God,  I  feel  that  this  error  of 
mine  is  going  to  stare  me  in  the  face  until  my  latest 
day.  I  would  be  willing  to  bear  my  own  remorse  if  I 
could  only  see  her  happy  once  more ;  but  those  sad  eyes 
of  hers  almost  drive  me  mad  when  I  know  that  I  have 
been  the  cause  of  their  deeper  sadness.  How  she  can 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  143 

assume  such  cheerfulness  in  the  presence  of  my  wife  is 
a  myster}' ;  what  a  grand  actress  she  would  have  made, 
yet  I  know  her  acting  is  no  easy  task." 

Yes,  there  was  H  struggle  going  on  in  Myrtle's 
beast ;  a  sorrow  which  was  beyond  even  Cecil's  sight — 
it  took  the  great  eye  of  God  alone  to  fathom  its  depths. 
Myrtle's  life  seemed  to  be  ebbing  away.  Her  pillow 
each  night  was  bathed  in  tears,  and  often  she,  walked 
the  floor  in  sorrow  when  others  were  asleep — she  the 
innocent  victim  of  another's  wrong.  Myrtle  well  knew 
if  she  had  not  looked  to  God  for  help  that  long  ago  she 
would  have  tried  to  end  her  misery  in  death.  How 
she  longed  for  the  days  to  go  by  that  she  might  go 
away  to  school. 

Ulhugh  having  a  few  weeks  holiday  thought  he 
would  return  home  where  he  would  be  near  his  brother's 
grave,  so  to  dear  old  Florida  he  had  come  once  more. 
After  the  fatigue  of  travel  had  somewhat  worn  away, 
and  he  had  dusted  and  refreshed  himself,  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening  he  walked  toward  this  cherished  spot. 
Placing  sweet  flowers  upon  the  low  mound,  Ulhugh 
stood  over  that  lonely  spot,  and  thought  of  the  happy 
days  gone  by  never  to  return — the  hunting,  the  fishing, 
the  boating,  the  sweet  Sabbath  days  when  he  had 
walked  hand  in  hand  with  brother  going  to  church, 
but  now  how  changed!  Brother  sleeps  in  peace  and  I 
am  left  to  mourn.  Ah,  dear  brother  to  think  that  you 
will  never,  never  come  back  to  me!  and  the  poor  boy 
brushed  away  the  fast  falling  tears  as  he  turned  to  rest 
under  an  old  oak  tree  whose  long  gray  moss  seemed 
ever  to  wave  and  weep  over  Edward's  grave. 

Ulhugh  being  wrapped  in  sad  meditations  saw  not 
the  pensive  face  of  a  sweet  girl  near  by,  for  Myrtle 
when  most  cast  down  often  came  and  sat  beside  Ed 
ward's  grave,  seeming  to  find  some  comfort  in  this  lowly 


144  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

mound;  but  the  young  girl  wished  to-day  that  she  had 
remained  at  home,  feeling  that  Ulhvigh  would  prefer 
being  alone  with  his  grief.  As  the  youth  approached 
her,  she  said:  ''Please  excuse  me,  I  am  afraid  I  am  an 
intruder. ' ' 

"No,  no,  how  'can  you  speak  thus?  Whenever  I  see 
you,  I  think  of  my  dear  brother,  for  I  met  you  when 
first  I  found  him.  Do  not  leave  me;  sit  here  and  tell 
me  all  the  news ;  why,  you  have  been  sick?  I  hardly 
recognized  you."  A  deep  flush  came  to  Myrtle's 
cheeks.  Ulhugh  saw  the  girl's  embarrassment,  and 
wondered  what  it  meant. 

"Well,  Miss  Myrtle,  tell  me  the  news;  are  there  any 
'new  comers'  for  the  winter?" 

"Not  yet;  I  hear,  howrever,  a  Mr.  Lamont  and  his 
mother  will  be  here  next  week  from  the  North.  Mrs. 
Lamont  is  well  known  to  some  of  our  best  ladies,  and 
all  unite  in  saying  she  is  a  most  excellent  woman.  It 
is  said  she  had  an  only  son  who  went  to  the  war  when 
quite  young,  and  is  considered  a  brave,  true  man." 

"Yes,  and  for  all  I  know  helped  to  kill  my  poor 
father.  Miss  Myrtle,  when  you  begin  to  talk  about 
war,  I  immediately  become  excited,  for  you  know  father 
was  slain  in  battle,  subsequently  mother  died  of  a 
broken  heart,  and  my  brothers  and  sisters  were  scat 
tered  over  the  world,  I  know  not  where.  What  a 
dreadful  thing  it  is  to  think  I  might  have  often  passed 
my  own  brothers  and  sisters  upon  the  streets  and  not 
recognized  them?  They  know  not  that  I  am  alive, 
neither  do  I  know  if  they  are  living.  Ah,  what  a  hor 
rible  thing  is  war — its  tragedies  do  not  end  with  men 
being  killed,  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  sadder 
calamities,  for  weak  women  and  children  are  left  to 
suffer  want  and  misery  for  thirty  or  more  years  after 
the  din  of  the  battle  ceases.  But  I  do  not  like  to  dwell 


THE   IDKS  OF   MARCH.  145 

on  this  subject,  it  makes  me  too  sad.  To  be  alone  in 
the  world  with  no  one  to  care  whether  I  live  or  die, 
never  a  kiss  from  mother  or  sister,  or  a  'God  bless  you, 
ray  son'  from  father,  no  happy  greetings  from  brothers 
— these  joys  all  taken  from  one  who  could  have  loved 
'^,0  devotedly.  When  from  day  to  day  I  feel  such  deso 
lations,  I  become  so  heart-sick  that  it  takes  all  the  cour 
age  I  possess  to  go  forward  and  make  a  man  of  myself. 
But  why  burden  you  thus,  you  can  never  sympathize 
with  me,  for  you  have  too  many  loved  ones  on  earth  to 
comprehend  the  feelings  of  one  who  is  left  alone  in  the 
world.  Banish  from  your  mind  what  I  have  said,  and 
tell  me  something  of  yourself — have  you  any  plans  for 
another  year?" 

"Yes,  I  am  thinking  of  going  to  boarding  school; 
things  have  not  yet  been  arranged,  but  I  feel  almost 
certain  of  going  North  in  a  few  weeks. ' ' 

"North!  I  would  not  go  to  school  North,  if  I  were 
you." 

"Yes,  I  prefer  going  there." 

' '  Shall  I  not  see  you  for  some  time?' ' 

"I  suppose  not,  as  I  expect  to  be  North  for  several 
years — until  I  finish  school." 

"That  is  bad,  I  will  not  know  the  place  after  you  are 
gone,  yet  I  may  write  to  you?" 

"I  fear  I  will  have  to  say  you  'nay!'  " 

"What!  are  you  not  going  to  correspond  with  me — 
the  only  person  I  ever  requested  to  write  to  me?  But  I 
will  not  ask  you  the  second  time." 

Ulhugh  gazed  upon  the  fair,  cold  girl  before  him, 
and  thought:  "She  is  rich  and  has  a  great  influential 
name,  hence  she  looks  down  on  me  as  some  object  of 
charity,  but  God  being  my  helper,  she  shall  yet  respect 
me — blockhead  that  I  was  to  think  that  she  would 
notice  me.  She  is  only  kind  to  me  as  she  is  to  every 


146  THE  IDES  OF   MARCH. 

one.  I  wonder  what  has  come  over  her?  She  looks  at 
me  as  if  she  bated  me;  tfhe  was  ever  dignified  and  sad, 
yet  there  is  another  expression  on  her  face  that  I  am 
unable  to  decipher.  Surely  it  cannot  be  scorn;  she 
could  not  have  changed  in  so  short  a  time?"  and  Ulhugh, 
pondering  these  thoughts  in  his  mind,  tipped  his  hat, 
leaving  Myrtle  to  her  own  meditation. 

"He  would  correspond  with  me,  but  should  I  write 
to  him?  Let  him  seek  one  good  and  true  as  himself." 
At  this  moment  the  demon  seemed  to  rise  in  Myrtle's 
breast.  "Good  and  true,  did  I  sa}T?  Who  is  good  and 
true?  For  all  I  know  he  wishes  to  make  me  love  him 
so  that  he  too  may  add  misery  to  my  already  distracted 
soul.  No,  the  sooner  I  find  out  the  falseness  of  human 
nature  the  better  for  me." 

As  Myrtle  pondered,  she  saw  Cecil  approaching. 
How  she  feared  his  presence;  she  wished  to  flee  from 
his  sight,  but  he  was  now  too  near  her.  "Myrtle,  my 
child,  I  do  not  wish  to  startle  you — and  why  do  you 
tremble — I  came  only  to  say  Ulhugh  is  here." 

"You  need  not  have  troubled  yourself,  I  am  already 
aware  of  the  fact/' 

"I  am  glad  he  has  come,  Myrtle,  now  you  may  think 
less  of  your  trouble;  I  fear  your  life  will  be  shortened 
if  you  continue  to  ponder  over  what  has  passed.  Try 
to  forget  all  unhappiness — it  is  the  only  hope  of  your 
life  being  spared,  my  child." 

"Cecil,  fear  not;  death  rarely  comes  to  the  threshold 
of  a  waiting  guest ;  no,  he  is  not  so  civil ;  but,  as  a  grim 
monster,  he  would  snatch  those  fair  ones  that  still  long 
for  life  and  happiness.  I  am  here  for  many  a  day. 
Please  leave  me ;  is  it  not  enough  you  have  made  me 
miserable;  why  add  unhappiness  to  my  life  day  after 
day  by  your  presence?" 

"Myrtle,  have  mercy,  child,  do  you  not  see  I  suffer  as 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  147 

much  as  you?  Look  into  my  face;  would  you  recog 
nize  me  as  the  same  man?  Thrust  a  dagger  into  my 
heart  and  end  my  life,  unless  you  wish  me  to  live  so 
that  I  might  prove  to  you  if  a  man  sins  once  there  is 
no  reason  why  he  should  alway  he  enthralled  by  Satan. 
On  my  knees  I  implore  your  mercy,  for  you  have  never 
told  me  you  forgave  me;"  and  Cecil  threw  himself  at 
Myrtle's  feet. 

She  gazed  upon  him  with  coldness  and  disdain ;  his 
face  was  haggard  and  wan,  but  there  was  no  pity  in 
the  girl's  dark,  flashing  e}~e.  "Ah,  Cecil,  you  who 
taught  me  to  love  you  as  a  sister,  taught  me  also  to 
hate  you  as  a  viper;  and  now  would  you  regain  my 
love  that  you  might  once  more  beguile  me  into  sin?  I 
tell  you  I  am  no  more  a  child  to  be  deceived  by  you. 
Dare  I  pity  you — he  that  can  be  false  once,  can  be 
false  twice.  You  say  you  suffer — I  am  tortured. 
You  say  you  are  in  anguish — the  demons  that  inhabit 
the  bottomless  pit  have  alone  endured  my  torment ;  let 
me  pass,"  and  with  queenly  majesty,  yet  with  sorrow 
written  upon  her  pale  face,  Idma,  the  child  of  luck 
less  destiny,  left  Cecil  Clair  grovelling  in  the  dust 
crying:  "I  deserve  it  all;  my  punishment  is  greater 
than  I  can  bear ;  ah,  I  know  at  last  the  meaning  of 
poor  Byron's  words: 

"  The  thorns  which  I  have  reaped  are  of  the  tree 
I  planted,  they  have  torn  me,  and  I  bleed  ; 
I  should  have  known  what  fruit  would  spring' 
From  such  seed." 


148  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 


"  From  haunted  spring  and  dale, 
Edged  with  popular  pale, 
The  parting  genius  is  with  sighing  sent." 

— Milton. 

ULHUGH  had  been  gone  only  a  few  days  when  there 
arrived  in  the  little  village  of  E—  -  Mrs.  Lament  and 
her  son  Lenfred.  This  elegant  lady  was  quite  an  addi 
tion  to  the  social  circle  of  the  place,  and  as  she  was  al 
ready  known  to  some  of  the  best  ladies,  she  was  soon 
introduced  to  the  elite  of  the  village.  Leita,  being  one 
of  the  first  ladies  to  call,  took  Mrs.  Lament  to  her  heart 
with  true  Southern  warmth.  She  induced  her  to  go 
boating,  driving,  fishing,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
attachment  between  the  two  ladies  ripened  into  a  deep 
friendship.  It  was  strange  if  they  did  not  meet  some 
where  each  day.  Leita  often  invited  Mrs.  Lamont  and 
her  son  to  dine  or  take  tea  with  her,  and  after  accept 
ing  one  of  these  kind  invitations,  Mrs.  Lamont  said  to 
Lenfred:  "My  son,  did  you  ever  see  more  refinement 
and  elegance?  It  seems  to  me  everything  in  that  house 
it  in  perfect  keeping,  from  the  sweet  musical  voice  of 
the  inmates,  down  to  the  spotless  white  linen  and  shin 
ing  silverware.  I  would  not  take  anything  for  my 
trip  this  winter,  as  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  enter 
a  typical  Southern  home.  I  never  could  have  known 
what  Southern  life  is,  if  I  had  been  in  a  hotel.  Truly 
the  women  preside  in  their  homes  with  queenly  dignity, 
while  husbands  and  sons  vie  with  each  other  in  giving 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  149 

them  courtly  honor.  But  talking  about  queens,  did 
you  ever,  my  son,  see  a  woman  more  worthy  of  being 
called  a  queen  than  Miss  Dean?  Lenfred,  I  tell  you 
she  is  the  most  beautiful  object  I  ever  gazed  upon;  I 
cannot  keep  my  eyes  from  her  face  a  second  at  a  time 
although  I  know  she  thinks  I  am  the  rudest  person  she 
ever  saw ;  and  her  eyes !  I  see  them  now,  for  they  haunt 
me  day  and  night,  yet  who  can  discribe  them — they 
seem  to  draw  you,  yet  repel  you;  laugh,  yet  cry,  are 
bright,  yet  pensive;  love  you,  yet  hate  you.  Her  fea 
tures  are  as  if  chiselled;  yet  you  would  never  take 
her  for  a  statue,  for  there  is  something  about  her  person 
too  divinely  realistic.  I  gaze  upon  her  so  intently  at 
times  that  she  turns  her  face  from  me  and  blushes,  and 
then  she  becomes  even  more  beautiful.  A  haughty 
queen  she  appears  to  be,  yet  I  feel  I  do  her  an  injustice 
when  I  call  her  proud.  If  she  were  my  daughter,  I 
would  be  the  happiest  mother  in  all  the  land,  and  if  I 
were  a  boy,  I  know  she  would  break  my  heart." 

"Well  mother  dear,  you  have  a  boy — what  do  you 
think  will  become  of  him?" 

"My  son,  you  certainly  have  my  sympathy,  yet  for 
my  sake  and  your  own  good,  do  not  fall  in  love  with 
her,  for  I  am  afraid  she  would  never  reciprocate  your 
affection.  I  believe  a  man  would  have  to  be  simply 
perfect  before  she  could  love  or  even  esteem  him,  and 
although  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  she  finds  her 
ideal,  should  she  ever  see  a  man  whom  she  truly  loves, 
and  should  become  his  wife,  her  devotion  to  him  would 
be  boundless.  No  sacrifice  would  be  too  great,  no  bur 
den  too  heavy,  if  by  her  endurance  of  suffering  happi 
ness  could  be  given  her  husband.  A  man  would  want 
no  greater  treasure  if  he  could  only  possess  Myrtle  as 
his  jewel.  But  beware,  Lenfred,  incase  your  heart  in 
ice,  for  although  she  would  never  turn  a  straw  to 


150  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

gain  any  man's  love,  men  cannot  keep  from  loving 
her.  because  she  is  so  surpassingly  beautiful." 

''Mother,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  I  think  we  had 
better  take  the  next  train,  for  I  am  not  prepared  for  the 
onslaught  of  any  woman,  much  less  the  sweet,  seduc 
tive  wiles  of  such  a  fair,  fascinating  angelic  being." 

"My  boy,  I  have  told  }rou  of  this  lovely  woman  sim 
ply  to  impress  on  your  mind  the  old  adage  'Forewarned 
is  forearmed." 

"I  will  try  to  take  your  advice,  mother  dear,  but  you 
must  remember  I  am  human  and  do  not  expect  too 
much  of  me;  but  I  did  not  know  yon  could  over  think  I 
would  be  devoted  to  any  girl  as  long  as  I  continue  to 
possess  the  love  of  the  sweetest  mother  on  earth;"  and 
Lenfred  bent  and  kissed  that  mother  whom  he  had 
worshipped  since  babyhood.  "My  boy,  it  is  but 
natural  that  you  should  try  soon  to  win  you  a  wife,  for 
you  have  become  thoroughly  established  in  your  medi 
cal  profession  and  have  a  wide,  influential  practice  and 
a  goodly  sum  of  money  in  bank  and  I  do  not  see  that 
you  need  but  one  more  blessing  to  make  your  happiness 
complete,  and  that  is  a  good  wife. ' ' 

"I  know  I  have  the  best  mother  in  all  the  world,  and 
that  is  the  reason  I  do  not  get  married,  for  I  am  afraid 
I  can  never  find  a  wife  so  noble  as  you.  dear  mother, 
and  the  dreadful  comparison  would  make  me  most 
miserable." 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  boy;  there  are  many  women 
who  will  equal  your  mother  in  every  respect;  and  you 
have  only  to  open  your  eyes  when  you  wish  to  select  a 
irue  wife.  But,  my  son,  it  is  growing  late,  we  must 
not  talk  more  as  we  wish  to  go  to  Silver  Springs  to 
morrow  where  it  is  said  if  you  drop  a  pin  in  the  sprirpj 
you  can  see  it  eighty  feet  below  you  as  it  lies  in  it  ^ 
crystal  bed.  We  must  go  and  see  that  wonderful  spot 
— kiss  me  e-ood-nic'ht." 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  15i 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  O,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ? 
Like  a  swift-fleeing  meteor,  a  fast  flying  cloud, 
A  flash  of  the  lightning,  a  break  of  the  wave, 
He  passes  from  life  to  rest  in  the  grave." 

— Knox. 

WHEN  the  winter  season  had  ended  in  Florida  Mrs. 
Lament  and  Leita  had  become  fast  friends.  Myrtle 
speaking  of  going  to  school  in  New  York,  Mrs.  Lament 
asked  her  if  she  knew  any  one  in  the  city. 

"No,  madam,  I  haven't  a  single  acquaintance  there. " 

"Why,  Myrtle,  this  is  dreadful;"  yet  after  a  mo 
ment's  thought,  the  good  woman  continued.  "I  am 
selfish  enough  to  say  I  am  glad  you  have  no  friends 
North,  for  maybe  your  mother  will  consent  to  your 
coming  to  my  house.  How  would  you  like  being  a 
guest  of  mine,  my  child?" 

"I  am  sure  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  wish  to  have  me 
in  your  house,  Mrs.  Lament,  but  I  am  so  dull,  I  would 
soon  bore  you  to  death.  I  think  I  had  better  board  in 
school  where  if  I  make  myself  a  nuisance,  the  faculty 
will  have  no  reluctancy  in  expelling  me." 

"Ah,  if  you  have  no  better  reason  than  this,  my  child, 
you  shall  certainly  come  to  my  house.  I  will,  how 
ever,  consult  your  sister  and  brother  upon  the  subject ; 
and  Mrs.  Lament  arose  immediately  and  went  into  the 
yard  where  Leita  and  Cecil  were  sitting.  After  talk 
ing  a  long  time  on  the  subject,  the-  {.jood  woman  ended 
her  conversation  by  saying:  "I  just  must  have  her. 


152  THE  IDES  OF   MARCH. 

She  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  me,  for  Lenfred  is 
absent  from  home  so  much,  it  would  be  the  pleasure  of 
my  life  to  have  her  in  my  house.  Leita  you  must  cer 
tainly  fix  it  with  her  mother. ' ' 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lamont,  I  think  we  can  arrange  every 
thing  to  suit  you.  Sister  generally  grants  my  every 
request.  Listen  furthermore — we  leave  for  home  in  a 
few  days — I  believe  I  heard  you  say,  you  would  be 
here  several  weeks  longer  and  would  then  pass  through 
Savannah  to  meet  her  cultured  people  and  to  see  her 
far  famed  cemetery,  before  going  North.  This  is  well 
for  our  plans,  for  on  my  arrival  home,  I  will  consult 
sister  in  reference  to  Myrtle,  and  will  immediately 
write  her  answer.  If  sister  consents,  Myrtle  will  meet 
you  in  Savannah,  and  you  can  all  sail  to  New  York  at 
the  same  time." 

"Ah,  the  plan  is  indeed  lovely.  I  hope  it  is  not  too 
good  to  be  true."  Not  many  days  from  this  time  Leita 
bade  Mrs.  Lamont  good-by,  and  accompanied  by  her 
husband  and  Myrtle,  returned  home.  It  was  only 
necessary  for  Leita  and  Cecil  to  make  a  request  of  Mrs. 
Dean — hence  they  were  not  astonished  at  their  sister's 
answer : 

"Certainly,  I  have  no  objection  at  all  to  your  pro 
posed  plans." 

As  soon  as  MjTrtle  heard  that  she  was  going  from 
home,  she  commenced  immediately  to  prepare  for  her 
trip.  The  mother  did  not  turn  her  hands  in  helping 
Myrtle  arrange  her  wardrobe  for  school.  Every  gar 
ment  was  done  by  the  young  girl's  own  fingers.  When 
night  came,  Myrtle  would  be  too  tired  to  sleep,  and  her 
eyes  burned  like  coals  of  fire,  yet  she  knew  in  order  to 
be  ready  to  return  home  with  Mrs.  Lamont.  she  bad 
not  a  moment  to  spare ;  and  to  add  to  her  discomfiture, 
Mrs.  Dean  scolded  her  day  and  night.  "You  need  not 


THE  IDES   OF  MARCH.  153 

think  I  love  you  any  more  because  I  have  consented  to 
your  going  to  school.  I  never  expected  to  send  you  to 
boarding  school,  preferring  you  to  remain  in  ignorance, 
but  your  sister  and  brother  wished  you  to  go  North, 
and  it  is  only  to  please  them  that  I  grant  their  request 
and  send  you  from  home;  yet  I  will  be  glad  when  you 
are  out  of  my  sight,  for  I  hate  to  look  upon  your  face. 
You  certainly  must  have  done  something  dreadful 
lately,  or  else  why  do  you  go  about  the  house  looking 
down  and  crying  half  your  time?  I  suppose  you  will 
go  North  and  disgrace  the  family  by  making  a  goose 
of  yourself.  I  cannot  imagine  why  Cecil  should  take 
up  his  time  in  begging  for  your  pleasure.  The  only 
fault  Cecil  has  is  his  being  too  kind  to  you,  but  he  will 
find  you  out  after  awhile,  and  hate  you  as  much  as  I 
do." 

Myrtle  listened  to  her  mother's  cruel  remarks  with 
feelings  of  delight  rather  than  pain.  "Let  her  scold  as 
much  as  she  pleases.  What  would  she  not  say  if  she 
knew  all  that  has  befallen  me?' '  and  the  poor  girl  hung 
her  head  still  lower  over  her  work,  never  trying  for  one 
moment  to  shield  herself  from  the  reproaches  heaped 
upon  her  by  her  unfeeling  mother. 

That  Myrtle  did  not  sink  under  the  many  trials  she 
had  to  endure  was  a  positive  proof  of  her  strong  and 
beautiful  character.  Cecil  had  never  been  alone  with 
her  since  their  return  home.  His  eyes  ever  sought  hers 
that  he  might  receive  one  pitying  glance,  but  no !  cold 
scorn  was  the  only  expression  he  had  yet  found  on  the 
young  girl's  face.  The  last  day  of  Myrtle's  stay  was 
drawing  to  a  close;  her  trunk  wTas  packed,  and  she 
longed  to  depart ;  the  moments  could  not  fly  fast  enough 
— not  one  regret,  not  one  tear  would  she  shed,  and  she 
well  knew  none  would  grieve  to  see  her  leave.  All  the 
family  save  Myrtle  had  gone  out  for  a  drive,  yet  she 


154  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

was  indeed  glad  to  be  left  alone,  for  it  was  the  only 
time  she  ever  had  any  degree  of  happiness. 

The  j'oung  girl  was  not  by  herself,  however,  for  as 
she  was  walking  in  the  garden  Cecil  drew  near  to  her. 
Myrtle  with  sadness  written  on  her  countenance  turned 
to  speak  to  him:  "I  thought  you  hud  gone  for  a  drive?" 

"I  did  expect  to  go.  Myrtle,  but  when  I  remembered 
this  would  be  my  last  opportunity  of  seeing  you  alone 
I  made  some  excuse  and  remained  at  home." 

"And  pray  why  do  you  wish  to  see  me  alone?  I  did 
not  know  the  performance  of  your  daily  duties  necessi 
tated  your  being  in  my  presence." 

"Myrtle,  child,  please  do  not  talk  to  me  so  cuttingly. 
It  might  be  the  last  time  we  are  alone  for  years.  You 
know  how  bitterly  I  have  repented,  are  you  not  going 
to  forgive  me?  Ah,  Myrtle  you  were  once  so  gentle 
and  forgiving;  is  it  possible,  you  wrill  never  be  your 
true  self  again?' ' 

Idma  did  not  deign  to  answer  Cecil,  but  looked  on 
him  with  cold  disdain  as  much  as  to  say,  "Who 
changed  me?"  Cecil  understood  her  glance,  and  his 
face  grew  sad. 

"Myrtle,  as  sorry  as  I  am  to  see  you  leave,  I  am  glad 
for  your  sake  you  are  going,  for  you  will  soon  forget 
the  past  when  some  handsome  boy  falls  in  love  with 
you.  In  thinking  of  his  devotion  you  will  become 
once  more  happy.  Ah,  God  knows,  Myrtle,  until  you 
find  joy  and  happiness  only  then  will  my  poor  soul  rest 
in  peace  and  comfort.  I  know  you  do  not  believe  my 
words,  nevertheless  they  are  all  true,  my  child.  When 
you  shall  love  some  good  man,  you  will  forget  all  in 
the  past  that  has  made  you  so  miserable." 

' '  And  do  you  suppose,  Cecil,  I  could  ever  love  any 
man?  You  have  taught  me  another  lesson — Hate 
and  I  think  I  have  learned  it  well." 


THE   IDES   OF  MARCH.  155 

"You  feel  so  now,  Myrtle,  but  you  are  too  young  and 
beautiful  to  continue  with  such  unwomanly  thoughts. 
Men  wTill  utter  their  vows  of  devotion,  and,  although 
you  may  laugh  many  to  scorn,  still  there  will  be  one 
person  whom  you  will  learn  to  love,  and  then  your 
better  nature  will  conquer  your  hatred  of  men,  and  you 
will  become  the  sweet,  gentle,  trusting,  confiding 
Myrtle  that  you  were  wont  to  be  in  childhood  days, 
and  how  happy  I  shall  be  when  that  day  comes. 

"That  day  will  never  come,  Cecil  Clair,  to  Idma 
Dean !  but  I  hear  some  one  coming — leave  me,  for  I 
would  not  be  found  with  you. ' ' 

Cecil  left  Myrtle  and  she  saw  him  no  more  until  the 
next  morning  when  he  came  to  take  her  to  the  train. 
Mrs.  Dean  had  gone  shopping,  leaving  Myrtle,  to  get  to 
the  depot  as  best  she  could  and  not  even  did  the  mother 
bid  the  child  good-by.  "Myrtle,  the  carriage  is  ready 
and  if  you  do  not  object  I  will  accompany  you  to  the 
depot  and  purchase  your  ticket  and  check  your  bag 
gage?" 

A  short  drive  brought  them  to  the  depot.  Cecil 
helped  Myrtle  on  the  train  and  went  to  purchase  her 
ticket  to  Savannah  where  she  was  to  meet  Mrs.  La- 
mont.  Minutes  passed  and  Myrtle  saw  nothing  of  her 
brother;  the  whistle  blew,  still,  Cecil  did  not  come;  the 
train  had  started  when  Cecil  came  running  so  as  to 
hand  Myrtle  her  ticket  through  the  open  window  that 
he  had  raised  just  before  leaving  the  car. 

"Good -by,  Myrtle,  may  God  bless  you  child,  and 
make  you  very  happy.  Forgive —  '  but  before  Cecil 
finished  the  sentence  the  train  had  carried  Myrtle  be 
yond  the  reach  of  her  brother's  words.  Cecil  had  re 
mained  out  of  the  train  for  a  purpose. 

"I  know  she  will  not  wish  to  kiss  me  good-by  hence 
I  will  not  give  her  any  unnecessary  pain,  so  will  let 


156  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

her  think  I  cannot  buy  her  ticket  readily  or  that  I  am 
busy  in  some  way  with  the  checking  of  her  trunk." 

She  divined  Cecil's  motives  in  not  returning  to  the 
train  sooner.  "Poor  man,  I  believe  he  has  repented," 
but  in  another  moment  a  second  thought  came  into  her 
mind.  "Ah,  my  Maker,  his  repentance  does  me  no 
good  now. ' ' 

"Tickets!  Tickets!" 

As  Myrtle  handed  her  ticket  to  the  conductor  she 
thought?  "Thank  God  I  am  going — going  anywhere 
rather  than  home — a  home  only  in  name." 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  15? 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  A  life  on  the  ocean  wave! 
A  home  on  the  rolling  deep, 
Where  the  scattered  waters  rave, 
And  the  winds  their  revel  keep!  " 

— Sargent. 

A  DAY  after  leaving  Savannah,  where  she  met  her 
friends,  Myrtle  perceived  she  was  far  from  the  sight  of 
land,  and  was  now  on  the  bosom  of  the  broad  Atlantic. 
Every  way  she  turned  was  water,  water — only  the 
green  water  below  and  the  blue  sky  above ;  no  trees,  no 
land,  only  that  vast  trackless  waste  that  now  appeared 
in  its  momentary  calmness  to  be  a  smooth  sea  of  glass. 

As  she  lay  in  her  berth  that  night  she  thought, 
"Why  am  I  so  sick  when  every  one  else  on  board  seems 
to  be  perfectly  well?  The  sea  is  calm,  and  as  far  as  I 
can  see,  there  is  nothing  to  cause  it.  -  Cecil,"  she  con 
tinued,  as  if  speaking  to  him  in  person,  "did  you  tell 
me  the  truth?  My  God,  if  he  has  deceived  me!"  and 
the  poor  girl  wrung  her  hand  in  misery  thinking: 

"  Sail  on,  sail  on,  thou  fearless  bark, 

Wherever  blows  the  welcome  wind 
It  cannot  lead  to  scones  more  dark, 
More  sad  tiian  these  we  leave  behind." 

At  midnight  the  old  ship  stopped  in  mid  ocean,  and 
there  was  a  heavy  tramp,  tramp,  as  if  some  heavy  body 
was  being  brought  up  the  stairs  leading  to  the  deck. 
Myrtle  closed  her  eyes,  knowing  not  what  it  meant.  A 


158  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

dead  man's  body  was  brought  on  deck  and  placed  near 
the  captain,  where  had  already  gathered  quite  a  number 
of  the  ship's  crew.  The  stars  flecked  the  heavens  in 
their  matchless  beauty,  but  no  one  seemed  to  notice 
them,  so  intent  were  all  on  the  scene  before  them.  A 
small  lantern  was  held  near  the  captain  that  he  might 
see  to  read  the  funeral  services,  thus  casting  a  weird  light 
upon  the  weatherbeaten  and  scarred  faces  of  the  old 
sailors.  There  was  a  solemn  hush ;  the  captain  in  deep 
clerical  tones  read  some  lines  from  a  prayer  book. 
When  he  had  finished  the  hearts  of  all  stood  still — • 
what  next?  A  large  plank  with  weights  attached  was 
brought  and  on  it  the  body  of  the  dead  man  was  placed. 
After  tying  the  body  on  firmly  ropes  were  put  under 
the  plank  by  which  to  let  the  body  down  into  the  water. 
With  breathless  suspense  the  finale  was  awaited.  The 
body  was  lifted  to  the.side  of  the  ship;  was  slowly  low 
ered  down,  down ;  when  about  halfway  to  the  waters' 
brink  the  plank  gave  way  and  with  a  horrible  heart 
sickening  thud  the  lifeless  body  struck  the  cold  deep 
and  sank  out  of  sight.  All  stood  aghast ;  not  a  sound 
could  be  heard.  The  sea  seemed  to  have 'hushed  its 
murmur  as  it  received  another  luckless  victim  into  her 
dark  bosom.  The  moon  high  in  the  heavens  looked  down 
with  sad  pitying  eyes,  making  the  scene  even  more 
awesome.  No  one  moved,  but  every  one  seemed  rooted 
to  the  spot.  If  their  hearts  did  beat,  they  seemed  sud 
denly  to  have  stopped.  Had  death  overtaken  all  on 
board?  and  as  they  pondered  the  old  ship  began  to 
move  slowly  but  surely  on. 

Lenfred  talked  long  to  Myrtle  that  night,  experien 
cing  the  greatest  pleasure,  as  he  ever  did  in  her  compan}'. 
"Is  the  sea  not  calm  to-night?  the  captain  says  he  has 
rarely  ever  known  it  so  peaceful." 

"I  hope  it  is  not  a  calm  before  a  storm." 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  159 

"None  of  your  evil  prophesying,  Miss  Myrtle." 
But  whether  prophecy  or  not,  before  another  day  had 
dawned  there  was  a  great  storm  upon  the  ocean.  The 
old  ship  tossed  and  pitched — now  trembling  on  the  crest 
of  a  wave,  now  sinking  down  with  water  walled  around 
her,  seeming  as  if  she  would  never  rise  again.  The 
waves  looked  like  hundreds  of  snow-capped  mountains 
hurled  into  the  midst  of  the  boiling  sea.  Those  who 
would  try  to  get  on  deck  would  be  hurled  headlong  down 
the  steps  while  thoee  who  were  on  deck  felt  as  the  waves 
dashed  and  splashed,  that  they  too  would  be  swept 
into  the  troubled  sea.  The  old  ship  creaked  and 
groaned  and  was  tossed  about  in  the  middle  of  the  sea 
— now  forward,  now  backward,  as  if  the  wind  had 
caught  a  feather  and  was  tossing  it  hither  and  thither. 
The  ever  watchful  captain,  eluding  the  many  questions 
put  to  him,  kept  his  eye  on  the  boiling  billows,  while 
the  men  looked  on  in  awe  and  tried  to  comfort  the  fright 
ened  and  screaming  women,  who  would  fall  at  almost 
every  step  they  took.  There  was  one  person  on  deck, 
however,  who  was  as  nonchalant  as  the  waves  them 
selves.  Myrtle  sitting  on  deck  in  her  womanly  beauty 
laughed  with  glee  as  the  waves  dashed  at  her  feet. 
She  was  happy  in  the  thought  of  being  washed  over 
board  and  thus  being  freed  from  her  sorrow.  "Oh,  if 
Ho  would  only  take  me;  no  one  would  miss  me;  Ul- 
hugh  might,  but  even  he  would  be  glad  if  he  knew  all." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Lenfred  had  brought  his 
mother  and  placed  her  beside  Myrtle ;  he  had  noticed 
her  calmness,  but  then  he  thought  it  was  in  keeping 
with  her  nature.  She  is  unlike  any  creature  I  ever 
saw.  Mrs.  Lament  received  no  little  comfort  from 
Myrtle,  who  looked  as  if  she  were  being  lulled  to  sleep ; 
and  could  have  sung  with  no  effort,  "Rocked  in  the 
Cradle  of  the  Deep." 


160  THE  IDES   OF  MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"Of  all  tales  'tis  the  saddest — and  more  sad, 
Because  it  makes  us  smile. — " 

— Byron. 
"  I  believe  it  because  it  is  impossible. — " 

—  lertullian  . 

MRS.  LAMONT  lived  in  an  elegant  mansion  on  one  of 
the  principal  residence  streets  in  the  city  of  New  York. 
The  room  assigned  Myrtle  was  a  large  front  one — the 
most  beautiful  in  the  house.  Owing  to  its  furniture  it 
was  called  the  "blue  and  white  room."  The  walls  were 
frescoed  a  pale  blue ;  the  fine  brussels  carpet  was  the 
same  delicate  color,  while  the  furniture  was  of  a  pure 
white  and  faint  blue.  The  fine  lace  curtains  were  looped 
with  blue  satin  ribbon ;  the  washstand  set  was  of  French 
china  with  blue  forget-me-nots;  and  everything 
from  picture  frames  and  manicure  set  to  the  dainty 
footstool  was  in  blue  and  white. 

Previous  to  their  arrival,  Mrs.  Lamont  had  written 
to  the  servants  telling  them  to  have  the  room  well 
aired,  flowers  in  it,  and  everything  in  readiness ;  as  a 
consequence,  on  the  dresser  were  lilies  of  the  valley  and 
SAveet  rosebuds.  On  the  table  in  the  center  of  the 
room  was  a  superb  music  box,  which  must  have  cost 
several  hundred  dollars;  and  as  Mrs.  Lamont  led 
Myrtle  to  her  room,  it  was  discoursing  some  low,  sweet 
music.  "Myrtle,  my  child,  welcome,  thrice  welcome  to 
my  home.  I  have  given  you  this  room  because  it  is 
emblematic  of  your  own  purity  and  loveliness.  Never 
has  any  one  slept  in  it  because  I  have  never  before 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  161 

found  one  whom  I  thought  it  would  suit,  but  when  I 
first  saw  you,  I  thought  there  is  one  whom  I  would  like 
to  adorn  my  room.  You  need  not  blush,  my  dear,  it  is 
all  too  true.  I  do  not  know  which  is  more  beautiful, 
your  extreme  modesty  or  your  lovely  face.  I  will  leave 
you  now,  my  child,  and  should  you  desire  anything  just 
press  the  electric  button  for  the  maid."  Mrs.  Lament 
kissed  the  fair  brow  of  the  beautiful  girl  and  closed  the 
door,  leaving  Myrtle  to  her  own  meditations. 

As  she  was  very  tired,  Myrtle  threw  herself  on  the 
elegant  blue  lounge,  which  was  fringed  with  a  heavy 
cord  of  white  silk,  and  as  she  rested  she  thought:  "Oh! 
I  wish  I  deserved  all  the  good  she  thinks  of  me." 

Myrtle  had  hardly  been  at  Mrs.  Lament's  long 
enough  for  her  fatigue  to  wear  away  when  her  school 
opened,  which  she  entered  with  a  fiill  determination  to 
be  one  of  the  first  in  her  class.  Her  companions  looked 
upon  her  as  being  far  ahead  of  them ;  she  was  polite  to 
all,  intimate  with  none.  Teachers  and  pupils  alike 
were  amazed  by  her  calm  dignity.  Myrtle  began 
taking  lessons  from  one  of  the  greatest  masters  in  the 
city,  and  so  charmed  was  he  with  her  voice  that  he 
would  frequently  go  over  the  time  allotted  her  for  a 
lesson.  Her  voice  was  naturally  so  sweet  he  would 
often  forget  that  he  was  giving  her  a  lesson,  and  al 
most  feel  that  he  was  listening  to  some  sweet  songster 
over  whom  he  had  no  control.  Myrtle  did  not  know 
that  Cecil  had  begged  her  mother  to  let  her  take  music 
lessons,  yet  felt  in  her  heart  that  every  advantage  she 
had  was  due  to  him.  Mrs.  Lament  was  as  a  minister 
ing  angel  to  the  poor  heartsick  girl,  but  when  one  has 
a  burden  which  no  one  can  share,  knowing  that  to 
divulge  it  would  be  to  no  advantage,  happiness  is  an 
impossible  thing. 

Myrtle  felt  that  all  the  compliments  showered  upon 


102  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH, 

her  were  but  mockery  to  her  tortured  soul.  Although 
she  had  been  with  Mrs.  Lamont  but  a  few  months,  she 
felt  more  at  home  than  she  had  ever  felt  in  her  own 
mother's  house.  She  received  more  kindness  from  Mrs. 
Lamont  in  one  day  than  she  had  from  her  mother  in 
all  her  life.  God  pity  the  mother!  God  pity  the  child! 
that  this  should  ever  be  true.  Oh,  mothers  of  our 
Southland;  oh,  mothers  of  our  Northland,  can  this  be 
laid  at  your  door?  Is  it  your  fault  that  another  has 
won  from  you  your  child's  love?  Although  Myrtle  had 
luxury,  ease  and  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  who  knew 
her,  she  was  yet  most  miserable.  She  felt  she  was 
living  in  deception,  and  it  so  preyed  upon  her  mind 
that  she  was  constantly  ill,  though  she  never  let  any 
one  know  she  suffered. 

On  night  before  going  to  her  room  Mrs.  Lamont 
kissed  her  good -night.  "Why,  my  child,  what  is  the 
matter?  You  must  have  a  fever,  for  your  lips  are  hot 
and  dry."  Poor  Myrtle  said  nothing  but  went  to  her 
room,  and  when  she  had  entered  and  closed  the  door 
she  knelt  by  her  bed  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"Oh,  this  awful  suspense  will  turn  my  head  wrhite  as 
cotton.  Oh,  my  Father !  my  God !  which  way  shall  I 
turn;  whither  shall  I  flee?  I  must  know  the  worst,  if 
worst  there  be.  I  can  stand  it  no  longer;  this  very 
night  I  shall  write  to  Cecil."  Going  to  her  desk  she 
took  out  paper,  pen,  and  ink,  and  wrote : 

NEW  YORK,  N.  Y.,  18—. 

"CECIL:  I  write  you  to-night  because  I  know  not 
which  way  to  turn.  If  you  have  been  deceiving  me, 
pity  my  sorrow  and  keep  the  truth  from  me  no  longer. 
Would  you  keep  from  me  what  I  have  a  right  to  know? 
I  will  do  myself  no  harm,  nor  will  I  ever  again  bo 
known  to  my  family  but  will  go  far  away  and  make 
for  myself  an  honest  living.  I  know  I  have  my  Maker 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  163 

011  my  side,  and  this  is  my  only  consolation.  Oh, 
Cecil !  Cecil !  Could  you  know  the  torture  I  have  en 
dured,  you  would  have  repented  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes;  but  it  is  too  late,  too  late;  what  you  have  done 
can  never  be  undone. 

"As  I  write  the  cold  drops  are  upon  my  brow. 
Think  not  this  letter  is  written  in  ink.  Ah,  no!  no! 
would  that  it  were  but  instead,  the  very  blood  of  my 
soul  is  engraven  on  each  arid  every  letter.  Cecil,  I 
know  not  what  I  write — I  fear  I  am  losing  my  reason, 
and  why  not?  Is  not  my  trouble  sufficiently  great  to 
drive  me  mad?  I  will  write  no  more ;  I  know  not  what 
to  write.  I  only  ask  one  favor — that  you  will  tell  me 
the  truth.  It  will  not  kill  me — nothing  can  kill  me,  or 
I  would  have  died  long  before  this  day.  Cecil,  Cecil, 
what  am  I  to  do?  Oh,  help  me  to  hide  from  this  cold, 
heartless  world,  my  poor,  weary,  miserable  self. 

"Fated, 

"IDMA." 

As  Myrtle  signed  her  name  she  fell  back  exhausted. 
' '  I  have  written  to  him  at  last,  but  how  am  I  to  get  the 
letter  to  him  that  none  may  know  anything  about  it? 
If  the  postman  takes  it  to  the  house  and  any  one  should 
see  my  handwriting,  it  might  be  opened  by  some  mem 
ber  of  the  family.  If  I  get  any  one  else  to  direct  it  for 
me,  Cecil  might  carelessly  throw  it  aside  to  await  read 
ing  at  his  leisure,  and  hence  it  may  fall  into  another's 
hands.  What  am  I  to  do?  I  will  pray  over  the  mat 
ter,  and  perhaps  by  morning  I  will  have  contrived 
some  better  way  than  I  can  now  think  of." 

She  then  began  pieparing  for  bed,  but  not  much  sleep 
visited  her  eyes  that  night.  Rising  early  next  morn 
ing,  she  was  still  in  a  quandary  as  to  how  to  get  the 
letter  off  safely.  What  should  she  do  with  it?  She 
had  often  heard,  "Be  careful  what  you  write,  for  it 
may  condemn  you  when  least  you  expect  it."  She  did 
not  know  even  where  to  leave  the  letter.  Heretofore, 


164  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

she  had  always  placed  them  on  the  table,  but  now  sho 
could  not.  She  felt  all  would  know  what  it  contained, 
and  then  she  knew  not  but  that  the  maid  would  read  it. 
"I  shall  put  it  in  my  pocket,  but  no!  in  pulling  out  my 
handkerchief  I  might  drop  it.  No,  this  is  not  best — 
what  shall  I  do?  It  cost  me  enough  to  write,  but  that 
seems  to  have  been  only  the  beginning  of  my  trouble. 
Ah,  I  have  it" — thrusting  the  fated  missive  near  to  her 
heart  she  hurried  off  to  school.  All  that  day  her  heart 
beat  high.  Every  time  she  pulled  out  her  handker 
chief  she  imagined  the  letter  was  in  her  pocket. 
"What  if  I  should  drop  it  and  the  girls  get  hold  of  it? 
How  they  would  hate  me;  those  who  now  esteem  me." 
Two  weeks  Myrtle  carried  the  letter  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  it.  Growing  desperate  one  day,  she 
drew  the  letter  from  its  hiding  place,  looked  quick]y 
here  and  there  and  threw  it  into  the  mail-box  with  a 
great  sigh  of  relief.  But  relief  did  not  last  long,  for  as 
the  time  drew  near  for  Cecil  to  get  the  letter,  she  be 
came  very  restless,  so  much  so  that  Lenfred  noticing 
it  said  to  his  mother  one  day : 

"Mother,  lam  a  physician,  but  it  does  not  take  a  doc 
tor  to  see  that  something  is  on  that  girl's  mind  that  is 
simply  driving  her  crazy.  Can  you  not  get  her  to  con 
fide  in  you,  mother?  I  would  not  have  you  to  think 
for  one  moment  that  I  wish  you  to  pry  into  her  affairs, 
for  I  know  you  too  well  for  that,  but  I  think  if  she 
would  unbosom  herself  to  some  friend  she  might  feel 
better.  I  have  taken  her  riding ;  I  have  taken  her  to 
parties ;  I  have  done  all  I  could  to  make  her  have  a 
pleasant  time,  and  although  she  is  the  same  sweet,  beau 
tiful  creature,  I  can  see  that  she  is  not  thinking  of  what 
she  is  doing,  nor  of  what  I  am  saying ;  she  is  living  in 
an  entirely  different  world ;  she  is  living  one  life  and 
acting  another.  Few  persons  would  notice  this,  but 


THE  IDES   OF   MARCH.  165 

maybe  I  take  a  little  more  interest  in  her  than  others 
because  she  is  in  the  house  with  us,  you  know,"  arid 
Lenfred  looked  at  his  mother  with  a  mischievous  twinkle 
in  his  dark-blue  eyes. 

"Yes,  my  boy,"  and  the  mother  smiled  sweetly,  "are 
you  not  glad  for  such  a  plausible  excuse  for  liking  her? 
You  need  not  think  I  have  failed  to  notice  the  child 
was  troubled,  with  all  of  your  liking  (and  ashamed  to 
own  it).  I  admire  her  quite  as  much.  As  I  look  at 
her  at  times  it  almost  breaks  my  heart,  yet  what  am  I 
to  do?  I  dare  not  ask  for  her  confidence ;  and,  further 
more,  if  she  has  a  sorrow  she  will  bear  it  alone.  But 
we  must  surely  be  mistaken,  she  is  too  young  to  have 
any  care.  And  her  sister  told  me  she  was  not  in  love 
with  any  one ;  her  father  is  a  man  of  wealth  and  in 
fluence  and  high  honor,  her  mother  is,  I  hear,  an  exceed 
ingly  brilliant  woman  and,  of  course,  she  cannot  help 
idolizing  Myrtle,  so  what  she  can  have  to  worry  her  is 
beyond  my  conjecture.  Her  sad  looks  must  surely  be 
a  part  of  herself,  for  she  has  been  so  ever  since  I  met 
her.  I  hope  her  sorrow  is  only  imaginary." 

' '  I  also  wish  it  might  be,  mother  dear,  but  if  that 
young  girl  has  not  a  hidden  sorrow  my  opinion  is  not 
worth  much  henceforth;  but  here  comes  the  postman, 
I  will  see  what  he  has  for  me. ' '  The  postman  handed 
Lenfred  a  letter  for  Myrtle.  "I  shall  take  it  to  her, 
mother,  for  I  am  always  happy  to  see  her  get  a  letter ; 
she  must  be  very  lonesome  so  very  far  away  from 
home." 

Lenfred  went  to  Myrtle's  room,  knocked  gently — "I 
have  a  letter  for  you,  Miss  Myrtle."  Myrtle  came  to 
the  door,  took  the  letter,  looked  at  it,  and  as  she  saw  the 
handwriting  she  turned  her  face  from  Lenfred  but  not 
before  he  saw  the  crimson  come  over  her  lovely  face. 
Lenfred  saw  her  embarrassment  and  quickly  turned 
away  to  meet  his  mother  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


1G6  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

"Mother,  her  sister  and  brother  are  surely  mistaken. 
She  must  be  iu  love  with  some  one,  for  when  I  handed 
her  the  letter  a  few  minutes  ago  her  face  turned  a  deep 
red." 

" That  is  no  sign,  my  child;  she  blushes  when  you 
least  expect  it.  She  might  have  blushed  because  you 
saw  her  in  her  bedroom ;  for  she  has  the  keenest  sense 
of  propriety  I  ever  knew  a  girl  to  possess.  In  fact  all 
of  the  good  qualities  of  womankind  seem  to  be  centered 
in  our  beautiful  Myrtle — oh,  how  I  love  her!" 

"W-h-e-w,  mother,  don't  you  think  I  should  get 
jealous?  What  would  you  think  of  me  if  I  could  love 
just  a  little  too?"  and  Lenfred  turned  quickly  away  to 
hide  his  blushes  from  his  mother. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  167 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
"EVERY  WHY  HATH  A  WHEREFORE." 

As  soon  as  Lenfred  left  Myrtle  she  locked  the  door 
and  with  fast-beating  heart  tore  open  the  letter  for  she 
knew  before  opening  it  that  'twas  from  Cecil. 

"MY  POOR  LITTLE  MYRTLE:  Your  letter  received 
my  child,  and  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  pain  it 
gives  me  to  know  that  you  are  still  in  sorrow.  But  the 
day  will  come,  and  God  grant  it  may  come  soon,  my 
child,  when  you  will  know  that  what  I  say  is  true,  and 
then  you  will  laugh  at  yourself  for  having  such  useless 
fears.  Yet,  my  child,  do  not  think  I  have  forgotten  that 
I  am  the  cause  of  all  your  sorrow;  I  think  of  your  grief 
daily,  yea  hourly,  and  although  I  know  'tis  only  imag 
inary,  yet,  you  think  it  is  real;  for  had  you  known,  your 
heart  would  not  have  been  so  sorely  troubled.  Your 
utter  ignorance  of  this  wicked  world  is  even  more  than 
I  had  dreamed  of.  God  grant  it  may  ever  be  thus. 
Your  simplicity  is  as  beautiful  as  your  purity.  Myrtle, 
I  feel  you  would  not  know  me,  were  you  to  see  me.  yet 
no  one  save  myself  is  to  blame.  I  realize  I  have  made 
you  miserable.  You  think  I  have  sinned  more  than  I 
have ;  hence  I  can  never  be  happy  and  it  worries  me 
more  than  you  can  ever  imagine.  Do  not  think  you 
will  be  bored  with  my  presence  a^fain;  knowing  I  am 
the  cause  of  your  unhappiness,  the  strain  is  more  than  I 
can  bear,  for  the  dreadful  past  is  ever  before  me.  You 
have  never  said,  Myrtle,  that  you  forgave  me,  yet  I 
know  your  good  kind  heart  better  than  you  do  yourself ; 
and  when  it  dawns  upon  you  that  I  have  ever  told  you 
the  truth,  you  will  relent.  Oh,  Myrtle,  when  I  think  of 
you  as  a  sweet,  little,  innocent  girl  resting  trustingly 
and  lovingly  upon  my  breast,  going  to  sleep  as  a  ti 


108  THE  IDES   OF   MARCH. 

bird  under  its  mother's  wing;  when  I  think  of  you  thus. 
Myrtle,  the  tears  roll  down  my  cheeks  because  I  have 
changed  a  sister's  love  and  devotion  into  direst  hate. 
I  will  send  Leita  to  visit  you  some,  day,  but  I  shall  not 
come  with  her.  She  is  the  dearest,  sweetest  wife  in  all 
the  world,  yet  you  know  I  have  never  merited  her  love. 
She  often  asks  me  why  I  am  so  sad — Alas !  what  can  I 
tell  her?  Do  not  risk  writing  again,  Leita  would  have 
read  your  letter;  for  she  had  broken  the  seal  and  was 
about  to  take  it  from  th  ^  envelope  when  she  was  called 
by  some  one.  She  never  thought  of  it  again.  You 
need  not  entertain  any  fears  of  any  one  seeing  it  now, 
for  I  destroyed  it  as  soon  as  I  read  it,  as  I  hope  you 
will  do  with  this.  Mrs.  Lament  writes  that  you  are 
the  most  lovable  creature  in  all  the  world.  1  know  she 
does  all  in  her  power  to  make  you  happy,  and  I  love 
her  for  it.  My  child,  I  shall  not  weary  you  with 
longer  writing.  Holy  angels  guard  and  keep  you. 
"Your  brother  in  deepest  sympathy, 

"CECIL." 


Myitle  after  reading  the  letter  leaned  her  head  in  her 
hands  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  What 
made  her  cry?  About  what  .would  you  have  cried  had 
you  been  in  Myrtle's  place?  No  doubt  she  cried  for 
joy,  that  her  present  fears  were  groundless;  and  then 
she  thought  of  the  days  of  ' '  Auld  Lang  Syne, ' '  when 
she  was  a  little  girl  and  roamed  over  the  meadows  with 
Cecil;  how  she  had  loved  and  trusted  him  in  her  child 
ish  innocency.  And  she  thought  and  thought  till  her 
tired  brain  sought  relief  in  sleep. 

She  slept  long  and  dreamed  she  was  a  little  girl 
again  standing  by  the  old  lime  sink  catching  fishes, 
and  Cecil  was  there  by  her  side  looking  down  upon  her 
with  a  brother's  love.  But  suddenly  she  thought  her 
mother  had  come  and  was  scolding  her,  so  she  jumped 
with  a  start.  But  it  was  only  the  servant  knocking  on 
the  door  calling  her  to  sapper.  Lenfred  was  waiting 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  169 

at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  for  her,  and  noticed  her  changed 
expression. 

"You  have  been  sleeping,  have  you  not,  Miss  Myrtle? 
It  must  have  done  you  good  for  you  look  brighter  than 
you  have  for  days. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  have  had  a  nice  nap,  and  I  dreamed  I  was  a 
child  again." 

"To  hear  you  talk,  Miss  Myrtle,  one  would  think  you 
were  getting  quite  aucient,  but  it  certainly  took  more 
than  a  nap  to  make  you  look  so  happy,  and  I  think  I 
could  guess  what 'tis  if  you  would  give  me  permission." 

But  Lenfred  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  see 
Myrtle  embarrassed,  so  he  changed  the  topic  of  conver 
sation. 

He  had  quite  a  large  practice,  and  was  consequently 
at  home  but  little ;  however,  that  little  was  the  happi 
est  part  of  his  life — so  much  so,  that  he  grew  alarmed 
at  himself.  Myrtle's  attractions  were  more  than  he 
could  resist.  While  in  her  presence,  he  seemed  in  an 
other  world.  He  was  afraid  to  be  with  her  too  much 
because  he  might  fall  in  love  with  her — yes,  might,  too 
bad — poor  man;  and  as  for  staying  away,  could  any 
one  human  have  stayed  away  when  the  privilege  was 
his  to  be  in  her  presence?  When,  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  Lenfred  would  return  home  from  his  office 
and  ask  Myrtle  to  sing — it  made  no  difference  how  tired 
or  worried  he  was — he  forgot  all  trouble  when  her 
sweet,  musical  voice  was  raised,  for  then  he  lived  in 
the  highest  heaven.  To  hear  her  sing  some  songs,  one 
would  think  she  had  suffered  everything  a  poor  tor 
tured  mortal  could  endure ;  for  her  soul  seemed  made 
for  sympathy. 

Soon  after  this  Myrtle  was  one  day  running  down 
stairs  when  from  some  cause  her  foot  slipped  and  she 
fell  to  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  her  whole  weight  falling 


170  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

on  her  arm.  Lenfred  and  his  mother  heard  the  fall 
and  ran  out  in  the  hall  to  see  what  had  happened. 
' '  Lenfred,  my  son,  my  son,  it  is  Myrtle.  Oh,  dreadful, 
dreadful,  what  shall  we  do?" 

"Oh,  my  arm,  my  arm,"  cried  Myrtle  in  agony,  "I 
believe  it  is  broken,"  and  then  she  swooned  away. 
Lenfred's  calling  now  was  put  into  practice.  Doctor 
like,  he  tore  the  dainty  dress  from  Myrtle's  arm.  "I 
will  have  to  take  her  to  her  room,  mother, ' '  and  lifting 
the  young  girl  in  his  strong  arms,  as  if  she  were  a  child, 
he  carried  her  upstairs  to  her  room  and  gently  placed 
her  on  her  bed.  Putting  his  head  to  her  breast  he  was 
startled,  but  did  not  let  his  mother  know  his  thoughts. 

"Oh!  I  do  not  like  the  beating  of  her  heart,  it  might 
some  day  fail  her  if  she  ever  becomes  greatly  excited. 
Strange  she  should  have  never  mentioned  this  trouble, 
yet  I  doubt  if  she  knows  it  herself;"  then  he  turned  his 
attention  to  Myrtle's  arm,  and  examined  it  carefully. 

"Thank  God,  mother,  it  is  only  a  sprain;  it  will  be 
all  right  soon. ' '  and  then  he  thought  of  how  embar 
rassed  she  would  be  should  she  find  him  in  her  room 
with  her  arm,  and  neck  bare.  ' '  She  is  coming  to, 
mother;"  whereupon  Lenfred  immediately  pulled  the 
counterpane  over  her  fair  arms  and  lily-white  neck,  and 
as  he  did  so  he  could  not  help  noticing  a  tiny  chain  to 
which  was  attached  an  exquisite  diamond  ring  that 
rested  near  Myrtle's  heart.  He  stood  a  moment  as  if 
turned  to  stone — he  dared  not  look  again,  and  turning 
left  the  room. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  171 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"To  the  nuptial  bower  I  led  her,  blushing  like  the  morn." 

— Milton. 

RAYMOND  had  visited  Baltimore  to  ask  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
DeLong  for  the  hand  of  their  daughter  Edith.  Consent 
was  given  to  the  marriage  and  Raymond  was  often 
seen  in  the  Monumental  City.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  DeLong 
soon  became  proud  of  their  prospective  son,  feeling  in 
him  they  were  gaining  a  treasure.  As  the  family  was 
so  prominent  in  social  circles,  they  felt  that  the  wed 
ding  should  be  public,  although  Edith  preferred  it 
should  be  private.  The  society  element  of  the  old  con 
servative  city  looked  forward  to  the  coming  event  as 
one  of  great  brilliancy. 

The  eventful  day  was  fast  approaching.  Everything 
in  Edith's  home  was  hurry  and  confusion;  the  house 
was  covered  from  one  end  to  the  other  with  patterns, 
cloth,  laces,  embroidery,  shoes,  hats,  handkerchiefs,  and 
everything  connected  with  a  trousseau,  and  the  once 
orderly  mansion  had  come  without  any  one  knowing 
how  to  look  as  if  a  cyclone  had  suddenly  passed  through 
it.  Out  of  so  much  disorder  could  order  be  brought 
about  in  so  short  a  time?  Yes,  for  where  is  the  dress 
maker  or  milliner  who  will  not  stop  everything  she  is 
doing  to  work  for  a  bride  elect?  Furthermore,  all  love 
to  do  for  a  bride. 

Every  stitch  the  mantuamaker  takes  is  with  a  smile ; 
the  dull  days  she  sews  that  bread  might  be  had  seem 
at  this  time  to  be  forgotten,  and  merriment  ami  joy  are. 


172  THE   IDES  OF   MARCH. 

found  even  in  the  dismal  workroom ;  for  many  of  these 
women  who  sew  were  once  themselves  happy  brides, 
and  beautiful,  too;  but — ah,  sunshine  does  not  always 
last!  Sad,  pitiable  fate  that  sometimes  awaits  the 
blushing  bride ! 

Three  days  before  the  wedding  the  florist  began 
decorating  the  mansion.  Large  palms,  cedars,  ever 
greens,  and  flowers  were  brought  in  great  profusion, 
and  arranged  in  such  picturesque  and  rustic  designs 
that  one  could  almost  mistake  the  mansion  for  the  cool 
retreat  of  woodland  nymphs;  fountains  of  perfume 
sparkled  and  danced,  and  made  low,  murmuring  music 
as  its  rainbow  spray  fell  in  pearly  dewdrops  or  gurgled 
among  half-hidden  violets  on  mossy  fern  beds  ere  its 
sweet  scented  waters  came  again  to  kiss  the  tiny  white 
pebbles  that  glistened  beneath  its  crystal  bed.  The 
spacious  halls  and  large  double  parlors  were  thrown 
together,  so  as  to  form  one  grand  reception  room, 
divided  only  by  banks  of  moss-covered  stones  that  were 
partly  hid  by  trailing  vines  and  waving  grasses. 
Mounds  entirely  concealed  by  luxuriant  tropical  plants 
made  quaint  nooks  for  whispering  lovers,  who  ever  de 
light  to  breathe  their  vows  anew  to  maidens  fair.  In 
the  center  of  the  spacious  parlor  was  a  sylvan  bower, 
intertwined  with  smilax,  maiden-hair  fern,  and  peep 
ing  here  and  there  were  sweet-scented  orange  blossoms, 
tiny  snowdrops,  single  white  hyacinths  and  lilies  of 
the  valley.  Under  this  bower  of  flowers  was  suspended 
an  umbrella  designed  of  white  roses  lined  with  pink 
petals,  on  top  of  which  sat  two  snow-white  doves.  There 
was  erected  in  the  yard  a  huge  awning  extending  from 
the  front  door  to  the  carriage  stile,  and  a  handsome 
brussels  carpet  was  thrown  upon  the  ground  beneath 
the  improvised  covering.  While  these  things  were 
leiug  made  ready  tUo  confectioner  was  in  the  elegant 


THE   IDES   OF    MARCH.  173 

dining  room  arranging  his  tables  that  would  please  the 
most  fastidious  epicure;  and  to  further  beautify  this 
department,  Mrs.  DeLong  had  brought  forth  her  finest 
cut  glasses,  daintiest  hand-painted  china,  and  her  most 
elegant  silverware,  and  placed  them  in  the  hands  of  the 
professional  designer. 

As  the  wedding  day  drew  nigh,  presents  began  to 
come  from  all  parts  of  America,  many  from  Europe, 
and  some  even  from  the  far  Orient.  The  gifts  were  as 
varied  as  they  were  elegant — handmade  Irish  laces  of 
finest  texture,  Indian  shawls,  Persian  rugs,  Cologne  per 
fumes,  Venetian  bronzes,  Florentine  paintings,  Grecian 
statues,  French  china,  silverware  of  every  description 
from  the  gold  and  silver  tea-service  to  the  tiny  salt 
spoons.  The  jewels  consisted  of  diamonds,  pearls, 
rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds,  cameos,  and  all  wrought 
in  such  exquisite  designs  that  even  the  most  fastidious 
maiden  would  have  pronounced  them  surpassingly 
beautiful.  The  presents  continued  to  come  until  there 
was  no  place  left  to  store  them. 

Happy  Edith  saw  everything  in  a  kind  of  dream; 
she  was  conscious  of  nothing  save  that  everything  was 
surpassingly  lovely.  The  evening  before  the  wedding 
Raymond,  accompanied  by  the  attendants,  came  to  prac 
tice  the  wedding  march.  "Oh,  what  delight,"  thought 
Edith,  "to  see  him.  I  feel  1  cannot  be  happy  unless  I 
am  in  his  presence  every  moment  of  the  day ;  yet  it  is 
too  bad  I  have  to  meet  him  in  all  this  crowd ;"  but,  lover 
like,  Raymond  soon  found  a  hidden  retreat  beyond  the 
gaze  of  watchful  eyes. 

"Edith,  darling,  let  me  have  a  kiss  from  your  ruby 
lips,  quick,  before  some  of  those  boys  find  where  we  are. 
Oh,  precious,  you  cannot  imagine  how  happy  I  am 
when  I  remember  that  in  a  few  short  hours  you  will  be 
my  own  little  bride.  It  seems  I  cannot  wait  for  the 


174  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

time  to  come — by  the  bye,  that  reminds  me — I  doubt  if 
father  can  be  at  our  marriage,  as  urgent  business  has 
taken  him  to  New  York.  Fearing  his  inability  to  at 
tend  our  wedding,  he  has  written  us  a  sweet,  loving, 
fatherly  letter,  and  also  sent  you  a  beautiful  diamond 
bracelet.  I  wrote  to  father  expressing  my  regrets  at 
his  n«t  coming;  I  also  sent  him  your  picture,  for  as  we 
leave  for  California  immediately  after  our  marriage, 
and  shall  be  gone  for  some  time,  I  thought  father  would 
be  impatient  to  see  your  likeness,  so  I  thought  I  would 
try  to  spare  the  picture  you  had  taken  for  me  a  few 
wreeks  ago,  as  I  shall  so  soon  possess  the  beautiful  orig 
inal.  Why,  Edith,  darling,  crying !  on  the  eve  of  your 
wedding  day — surely  you  love  me,  precious,  my  only 
love?  Are  you  disappointed  in  me?  Do  you  fear  to  go 
with  Raymond  through  life?  At  the  last  moment,  do 
you  regret  the  step  you  are  about  to  take?  Oh,  Edith, 
Edith,  my  darling,  my  all,  do  you  doubt  my  love? 
Speak,  my  angel,  ere  my  poor  heart  breaks  because  of 
your  tears." 

He  clasped  the  sobbing  girl  to  his  throbbing  breast, 
and  showered  fond  kisses  upon  her  fair  young  forehead. 

"No,  Raymond,  I  do  not  doubt  your  devotion  for  me, 
and  you  know  I  love  you  even  to  madness ;  yet  a  dread 
ful  fear  has  suddenly  taken  possession  of  me.  I  do  not 
believe  we  are  going  to  marry,  for  something  as  plain  as 
words  seems  to  whisper  to  me,  "You  will  never  be 
Raymond's  wife!" 

"Why,  Edith,  my  darling,  how  can  you  think  thus? 
In  a  few  short  hours  you  will  be  mine  forever.  I  also 
once  thought  to  possess  you  was  too  good  to  be  true, 
but,  darling,  God  be  praised,  that  day  is  passed — my 
highest  hopes  are  about  to  be  realized,  and  I  would  now 
be  the  happiest  man  alive  if  it  were  not  for  my  darl 
ing's  tears,  for  how  can  I  be  joyous  when  I  see  niy 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  175 

precious  in  sorrow.  Cheer  up,  my  love,  if  any  one 
were  to  see  you  weeping,  he  would  declare  you  had 
at  the  last  moment  found  me  a  brute." 

"The  idea  of  any  one  thinking  evil  of  you,  Ray 
mond  ;  if  so,  he  had  better  keep  his  thoughts  to  him* 
self,"  and  Edith  laughed  through  her  tears.  "I  am 
ashamed  of  myself  for  crying,  yet  I  could  not  help 
weeping,  and  as  a  woman's  tears  always  seem  to  make 
her  feel  better,  I  hope  my  fears  will  now  leave  me. 
Strange  I  so  naturally  bring  to  you  my  sorrows  as  well 
as  my  joys — I  have  begun  quite  early,  have  I  not?" 

"No,  my  darling,  I  appreciate  your  confidence,  and 
whether  you  be  in  sadness  or  gladness  I  hope  you  will 
ever  come  to  me,  for  my  arms  are  ever  open  to  receive 
you,  love,  my  heart  full  of  devotion;  a  love  that  can 
never  be  quenched  as  long  as  I  have  your  sweet  face  to 
feed  upon. ' '  The  dark  violet  eyes,  so  much  like  her 
mother's — in  fact  Edith  was  Mrs.  Waldo's  image — met 
the  earnest  gaze  of  Raymond — "Edith,  you  look  to-day 
as  you  did  when  I  first  saw  you  at  the  little  graveyard 
scattering  flowers  o'er  that  low  mound." 

"I  was  quite  young  then,  and  must  have  appeared 
very  sad,  for  I  remember  feeling  so  sorry  for  that  poor 
woman.  What  was  her  name?  I  have  always  wished 
to  know  more  of  her  history,  but  when  I  would  ques 
tion  mother  she  would  evade  answering  me,  and  imme 
diately  turn  the  conversation  to  other  topics.  There 
must  have  been  some  mystery  about  the  poor  woman 
that  mother  thought  best  to  be  kept  from  a  child,  "but 
now  that  I  am  soon  to  be  married  I  suppose  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  intrusted  \vith  a  secret,  although  my  par 
ents  seem  to  look  upon  me  as  a  little  girl — for  they  pet 
me  now  just  as  they  did  when  I  was  a  baby.  It  was 
only  yesterday  mother  and  father  said,  with  tears  in 
their  eyes — 'My  little  girl,  what  will  home  be  without 


176  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

our  sweet  Edith?'  I  did  not  think  I  would  ever  lovo 
any  man  so  devotedly  as  that  he  could  persuade  me  to 
leave  mother  and  father;  yet  here  I  am  loving  you 
more  than  I  do  my  own  precious  parents.  Oh,  Ray 
mond,  I  am  really  ashamed  of  myself,"  and  the  beauti 
ful  girl  pouted  her  cherry  lips  and  glanced  up  with  a 
saucy  twinkle  in  her  deep-blue  eyes.  How  often  Edith 
as  a  baby  had  worn  that  same  winning  expression,  the 
same  look  which  had  made  her  own  father  catch  her  up 
tenderly  in  his  loving  arms,  kissing  many  times  the 
rosy  dimpled  cheeks — calling  her  his  "little  mischief." 

"Edith,  my  darling,  your  shame  is  my  glory — God 
grant  your  love  for  me  may  ever  continue  pure  and 
sweet  as  it  now  is;  but,  angel,  wrhat  makes  you  look  so 
beautiful?  I  always  thought  you  pretty,  yet  you  are  sur 
passingly  beautiful  at  this  moment — you  need  not  blush, 
you  know  I  speak  the  truth.  Listen,  there  is  the  wedding 
march — we  are  wanted — stop,  darling,  you  are  my  pris 
oner  until  I  get  a  sweet  k — "  But  no,  some  one 
had  already  come  to  call  them. 

"I  say,  Edith,"  said  Genevieve,  "you  and  Raymond 
are  the  biggest —  Oh !  what  must  I  call  you?  Do  you 
not  know  you  will  soon  be  married,  that  is  if  you  can 
ever  stop  kissing  long  enough  for  the  preacher  to  per 
form  the  ceremony,  and  then  you  can  make  love  to 
your  hearts'  content?  But  I  doubt  if  you  will  ever 
make  a  fuss  over  each  other  then ;  it  will  be  a  pity  to 
think  you.  exhausted  all  the  love  before  your  wedding 
day.  All  this  foolishness  beforehand  is  why  folks  do 
not  love  after " 

"Oh,  Gen,  please  do  not  fuss  with  me  now,  you  do 
not  seem  to  respect  my  position,"  and  Edith  wound  her 
arms  tenderly  about  her  companion's  waist. 

"Don't  be  caressing  me,  when  you  have  some  re- 
spoct  for  yourself,  you  may  then  instil  it  in  others." 


THE   IDES  OF  MARCH.  177 

The  old  city  clock  had  tolled  midnight  ere  the  march 
had  been  practiced  to  perfection,  for  there  was  more 
merrymaking  than  marching  done.  The  joyous  bridal 
party  had  now  repaired  to  their  respective  rooms,  after 
which  a  momentary  lull  seemed  to  settle  over  the  old 
mansion,  and  the  stars  came  out  one  by  one  to  keep 
silent  watch  over  the  fair  betrothed  as  she  dreamed  of 
the  happy  morrow,  when  she  would  be  Raymond's 
bonnie  bride. 

Early  next  morning — the  wedding  day!  the  usual 
confusion  on  such  eventful  occasions  reigned  supreme. 
The  confectioner  and  florist  were  rivaling  each  other  in 
their  efforts  to  display  only  the  beautiful  for  this  joyous 
wedding,  and  as  the  day  advanced  many  things  had  to 
be  completed  that  could  not  receive  the  finishing 
touches  until  the  last  moment.  Grandfather's  clock 
Deemed  to  tick-tock,  tick-tock,  tick-tock  faster  than  its 
usual  wont  as  if  to  hasten  the  happy  nuptial  hour. 

Edith  had  begun  dressing,  yet  became  very  nerv 
ous  when  she  thought  of  the  many  eyes  that  would  so 
soon  be  riveted  upon  her.  "Yet,  I  can  stand  the  gaze 
of  my  guests  and  endure  even  greater  discomfiture  for 
his  sake — yes,  for  the  love  I  bear  him  I  would  face  a 
multitude. ' ' 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  gentle  tap  on  Edith's 
door,  and  the  maid  handed  her  a  small  package  accom 
panied  by  a  note  from  the  groom.  Edith  hastily  tore 
open  the  envelope — a  missive  at  this  hour  from  any 
one  besides  her  lover  might  have  waited. 


"MY  OWN  DARLING  EDITH:  I  send  you  a  necklace 
of  pearls,  which  seems  in  keeping  with  your  own  sweet 
purity  and  loveliness  of  being.  I  intended  giving  you 
this  little  memento  of  my  love  last  night,  but  in  your 
presence,  darling,  I  forgot  everything,  except  your  own 


178  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

sweet  self.     I  desire,   love,   if    perfectly  agreeable  to 
your  wishes,  that  my  beautiful  betrothed  wear  my  gift 
to  the  marriage  altar — until  then  God  keep  my  precious 
Edith. 
4 '  Your  own  till  death—  RAYMOND.  ' ' 


Edith  kissed  the  note  fondly  and  took  the  jeweled 
necklace  and  put  it  about  her  snowy  neck.  Surely  if 
Raymond  could  have  seen  the  beauty  of  that  swan, 
white  throat,  he  would  not  have  had  it  hid  even  with 
his  lovely  gift.  "Oh,  I  know  he  is  the  dearest,  sweet 
est  boy  in  all  the  world  and  everything  he  does  is  right, 
yet  I  almost  wish  he  had  not  given  me  pearls,  for  I 
have  heard  it  was  bad  luck  to  give  a  bride  pearls.  But 
it  is  too  late  now,  and  how  Raymond  would  laugh  at 
my  superstition,  so  I  shall  never  tell  him  my  fears  for 
he  might  possibly  think  I  did  not  appreciate  his  pres 
ent,  and  I  hold  dearer  a  feather  given  by  him  than  I 
would  value  a  diamond  given  by  any  other  man.  I 
must  hasten  my  wedding  toilet,  for  I  think  I  hear  the 
musicians  tuning  their  instruments.  Oh,  in  a  few 
short  minutes  I  shall  be  his  own  little  bride.  I  know 
I  shall  be  the  happiest  girl  in  all  the  world — ah,  Ray 
mond,  Raymond,  I  love  you  to  madness;  without  you 
I  could  not  exist. ' ' 

And  the  fair  face  beamed  with  joyous  anticipations 
of  the  happiness  in  store  for  her. 

The  beautiful  wedding  gown  was  donned  with  the 
assistance  of  mother  and  Genevieve — how  lovely  the 
fair  bride  looked  in  her  snowy  silk  and  long  flowing 
white  veil  caught  with  lilies  of  the  valley — Edith's 
favorite  flower.  The  guests  were  beginning  to  arrive, 
and  Edith  could  hear  the  low  buzz,  as  the  sound  of 
many  voices  floated  down  the  long  hall  to  her  room 
door,  a  few  moments  later  came  the  attendants,  dressed 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  179 

in  fairy-like  costumes,  followed  by  the  little  flower 
girls,  who  in  their  loveliness  looked  like  angels  flutter 
ing  about  the  old  mansion.  Last  of  all  came  the  white 
headed  clergyman,  the  dear  old  man  of  God,  who  sat 
apart  from  the  guests  with  his  eyes  intently  fixed  upon 
the  floor.  "Ah,  will  life  end  as  happily  for  this  young 
couple  as  it  has  begun?  Who  can  tell  what  sorrow 
awaits  them  beyond  the  sacred  union  of  their  hearts," 
and  the  good  man  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

Raymond  had  now  arrived,  and  Edith  had  sent  for 
him,  and  when  the  handsome  groom  was  alone  with 
his  beautiful  bride,  he  fell  at  her  feet :  "My  darling,  am 
I  indeed  looking  at  my  Edith?  An  angel  of  light  you 
are,  writh  your  shining  golden  hair  and  soft  blue  eyes. 
Oh,  Edith,  Edith,  I  am  not  half  worthy  of  you,  my 
darling.  But  rather  are  you  suited  to  be  crowned  the 
Goddess  of  Love  and  Beauty." 

"No,  no,  dear  Raymond,  I  would  prefer  being  your 
own  'little  bride.'  What  greater  happiness  on  earth 
could  I  desire  than  to  be  your  wife?' '  Raymond  caught 
his  betrothed' s  hands  and  kissed  them  fervently. 
"God  bless  you  ever,  my  darling,  for  those  sweet 
words,  may  I  never  give  you  cause  to  retract  what  you 
have  just  said ;  and  God  grant  our  love  for  each  other 
may  deepen  as  the  years  roll  by. ' ' 

The  beautiful  bride  on  beholding  her  handsome  lover 
kneeling  at  her  feet  was  greatly  moved ;  regardless  of 
her  fleecy  veil  and  spotless  gown,  she  knelt  softly  by 
the  side  of  her  intended. 

"Raymond  I  would  not  have  you  kneel  to  me,  but 
instead  let  us  both  kneel  to  our  Father  in  heaven. 
Pray  God's  blessings  upon  us,  dear  Raymond,  for  I 
feel  in  this — the  happiest  hour  of  my  life — I  wish  His 
presence  very  near  to  us. ' '  And  that  fair  young  bride 
in  all  her  womanly  loveliness  and  that  manly  groom 


180  THE  IDES   OF   MARCH. 

holding  the  tiny  gloved  hand  of  his  betrothed ;  his  dark 
hair,  and  eyes  deeper  than  night,  knelt  together,  mak 
ing  a  picture  so  sweet  that  even  the  seraphs  in  heaven 
would  fain  have  ceased  their  celestial  songs  to  have 
bent  a  listening  ear  to  Raymond's  prayer  that  floated 
like  sweet  incense  to  the  throne  of  God,  as  in  his  deep, 
melodious  voice  he  petitioned  the  great  Jehovah : 

"Heavenly  Father,  we  have  come  to  Thy  throne  of 
love  with  our  joys,  and  for  this — the  happiest  day  of 
our  existence — we  thank  Thee.  We  bless  and  give 
Thee  praise.  Father,  although  to-day  is  bright,  wo 
know  not  what  shadows  in  the  future  await  us ;  and 
we  beseech  Thee  now,  merciful  Father,  that  when  dark 
clouds  pass  over  our  sunny  pathway,  we  may  look  to 
Thee  in  our  hours  of  deepest  distress,  lean  upon  Thee, 
knowing  Thou  doest  all  things  well.  And  oh,  heavenly 
Father,  if  trouble  must  come,  grant,  I  beseech  Thee, 
that  I  bear  the  anguish,  and  let  not  my  beloved  be 
trothed  know  pain  or  sorrow;  but,  if  it  be  Thy  will, 
cast  all  burdens  on  me,  for  I  am  strong  while  she  is 
but  a  fair,  frail  flower  that  blooms  only  to  give  joy  and 
sunshine  to  all  about  her.  And  now,  O  Father,  take 
us  and  guide  us  in  life  with  all  of  its  many  mysterious 
changes,  and  at  last  lead  us  gently  to  Thy  peaceful 
home  of  love  where  there  is  peace,  joy,  gladness  and 
love  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  precious  Saviour  for 
ever  and  ever — Amen." 

As  Raymond  arose, '  he  gently  lifted  his  bride  and 
clasped  her  fondly  to  his  throbbing  breast.  "My  darl 
ing,  you  can  never  know  how  precious  you  have  become 
to  me.  Hark,  I  hear  the  clock  striking  our  bridal 
hour.  In  a  few  short  moments  you  will  be  my  own  sweet 
wife — let  me  kiss  you  once  again,  my  darling.  In  days 
to  come  you  will  love  to  think  on  these  happy  golden 
seconds."  He  stooped  and  kissed  fervently  his  blush- 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  181 

ing  bride.  "God  Moss  you,  my  angel,"  and  Raymond 
led  Edith  in  the  hall  where  the  attendants  awaited  the 
lovely  bride  and  handsome  groom. 

So  soon  as  the  sweot  tones  of  the  wedding  march 
were  heard  by  the  man  of  God,  he  began  to  walk  with 
solemn  step  toward  the  beautiful  floral  arbor  where  he 
was  met  by  the  attendants,  who  were  followed  by  little 
flower  girls  scattering  sweet  rose  petals  between  Ray 
mond  and  Edith.  It  was  a  curious  sight  never  seen 
before — bride  and  groom  coming  in  alone  and  separated 
from  each  other  by  angel-like  forms,  who  glided  over 
flowers  strewn  by  childhood's  sweet  fingers,  while  the 
perfumed  fountains  filled  the  air  with  their  sweet- 
scented  spray,  and  the  tall  candelabra's  waxen  tapers 
throwing  a  mellow  glow  o'er  that  fairy-like  scene. 
Edith  drew  near  to  Raymond  and  placed  her  arm  in 
his  with  childlike  trust  and  confidence,  and  as  she 
stood  with  holy  reverence  before  the  man  of  God  to  be 
made  tne  wife  of  Raymond  Felix,  her  face  became  radi 
ant  with  expectant  joy  and  happiness,  and  it  was  whis 
pered,  "Oh,  how  like  an  angel;  was  ever  an  earthly 
being  so  surpassingly  beautiful?"  Then  followed  a 
subdued  hush  ere  was  heard  in  solemn  tones  the  man 
of  God: 

"In  the  beautiful  garden  of  Eden " 

"Stop,  stop!"  , 
"Were  first  united  loving " 

"Stop,  stop!" 

A  death-like  silence  ensued,  save  the  excited  cry  of 
one  individual — 

"Stop,  stop!" 

What  could  it  mean?  "Stop,  stop,  it  cannot  be," 
and  there  rushed  in  the  midst  of  all  this  fair  wedding 
scone  a  man  whom  all  mistook  for  a  maniac,  for  he  ran 
to  the  bride  and  staring  eagerly  in  her  face  fell  back 


182  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

crying  incoherently:  "It  is  only  too  true;  it  cannot  be; 
it  is  she;  it  is  Viola's  child;  the  same  dark-blue  eyes 
— the  same  golden  hair  as  her  mother !  Ah,  war,  war, 
may  thy  dark,  cruel  cloud  never  again  gather  over  our 
fair  land.  Was  it  not  enough  to  kill  the  father  and 
make  the  mother  die  of  a  broken  heart?  No,  no,  but 
we  must  now  have  the  horrible  wrecking  of  brother 
and  sister — Stop!  stop,  in  God's  holy  name,  stop,  stop!" 
and  the  poor  old  man  fell  back  exhausted  in  a  chair 
refusing  to  be  comforted  in  his  great  grief. 


THE  IDES  OF   MARCH.  Ibo 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  heaven  in  her  eyes, 
In  every  gesture  dignity  and  love." 

— Milton. 

THKEE  years  have  passed  since  we  last  saw  Ulhugh. 
The  sturdy  youth  has  grown  into  noble,  sober  manhood, 
and  having  been  thrown  during  the  years  of  his  college 
life  into  the  society  of  the  most  polished  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  in  the  city  of  R ,  he  had  become  easy  and 

elegant  in  his  bearing.  He  had  taken  the  highest 
honors  in  his  class,  and  at  the  same  time  had  borne 
away  something  far  better — the  love  and  respect  of 
schoolmates  and  teachers,  together  with  the  great  esteem 
of  many  persons  living  in  the  city,  not  to  mention  the 
girls  that  were  dead  in  love  with  him,  who  numbered 
more  than  a  score.  Do  not  think  Ulhugh  gave  to 
young  ladies  any  special  reason  for  their  devotions. 
He  was  ever  polite  to  all  the  fair  sex,  but  some  girls 
are  similar  to  some  boys  in  that  they  love  even  when 
their  affections  are  unreciprocated.  Ulhugh  never 
thought  of  loving  but  one  girl — Myrtle  was  his  first 
and  only  affection,  his  ideal  love,  and  how  he  longed 
once  more  to  see  her  pure,  sweet  face,  and  gaze  into 
those  soft,  tender,  wondrously  sad  dark  eyes  of  hers 
that  seemed  to  speak  to  his  innermost  soul. 

"Has  she  forgotten  me?  What  has  she  done  with 
my  ring?  Ah,  more  than  all,  has  she  fallen  in  love 
with  any  man  since  I  saw  her?"  And  at  this  thought 
the  poor  boy's  heart  seemed  to  sink  in  his  bosom  with 
a  deep,  heavy  thud. 


184  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

"I  must  see  her,  and  tell  her  of  my  devotion  to  her, 
which  has  increased  as  the  days,  months,  and  years 
have  dragged  slowly  by.  "Did  ever  man  love  a 
woman  as  I  do  her?  No,  for  there  never  lived  another 
woman  just  like  her  to  love.  She  has  been  to  me  a 
guiding  star  beckoning  me  to  better  and  nobler 
deeds  in  life.  For  her  sake  I  would  gladly  climb  the 
topmost  ladder  of  fame,  that  I  might  be  the  more 
worthy  of  her.  I  will  return  to  Florida,  and  pour  out 
all  my  heart  to  her.  I  must  know  my  fate;  I  cannot 
logger  live  in  suspense." 

While  Ulhugh  was  pondering  over  his  future  fate, 
where  was  Myrtle?  She  was  still  in  New  York,  and  it 
was  commencement  night  at  her  school.  The  sweet 
girl  was  adorned  in  a  simple,  spotless  white  mull,  and 
her  dark,  glowing  eyes  had  a  far-away  look  in  them. 
Was  she  happy  as  were  her  companions?  No.  for  they 
had  expressed  their  joy  at  the  near  close  of  school,  and 
had  slammed  their  books  down  on  their  desks  dancing 
for  joy.  "No  more  old  school;  we  will  soon  be  at  home 
with  dear  mother  and  father — home,  sweet  home — yes, 
be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  is  no  place  like  home — the 
dearest  spot  in  all  the  world." 

But  never  had  any  one  heard  Myrtle  say  she  wished 
to  return  home,  and  that  is  why  the  young  girl  looked 
so  sad  to-night.  She  knew  on  to-morrow  she  would 
have  to  leave  for  a  place  that  was  home  only  in  name. 
Furthermore,  she  had  to  sing  in  a  few  moments,  and 
always  extremely  modest,  her  heart  beat  quick  and 
fast. 

"How  can  I  stand  alone  and  face  this  vast  audience?" 

When  at  last  the  president  called  her  name,  she  was 
.welcomed  with  a  round  of  applause.  Idma  bowed 
v-.'ith  queenly  diguity,  still  no  joy  was  shown  in  her 
coimterance  for  the  great  esteem  of  the  outside  world. 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  185 

Her  sad  face  was  as  white  as  her  dress,  and  her  dark 
hair  appeared  even  more  dark  as  it  lay  in  thick  coils 
above  her  snowy  neck.  As  Idma  stood  : 

"  Ne'er  did  Grecian  chisel  trace 
A  Nymph,  a  Naiad,  or  a  Grace, 
Of  finer  form,  or  lovelier  face." 

Her  lustrous  eyes  seemed  almost  divine,  and  persons 
in  the  audience  as  they  gazed  upon  her  whispered: 
"What  heavenly  beauty!"  Idma,  waiting  for  her 
teacher  to  play  the  prelude  to  her  accompaniment,  acci 
dentally  heard  a  gentleman  remark  to  his  friend — ' '  She 
is  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  ever  saw  on  earth,  and 
I  know  she  is  as  lovely  in  character  as  she  is  fair. " 
Myrtle  heard  no  more,  but  the  words  she  caught  were 
sufficient  to  make  her  pale  cheeks  turn  scarlet. 

"Will  the  past  never  forsake  me?"  and  with  a  will 
power  that  was  almost  superhuman,  Idma  hurled  her 
thoughts  back  into  the  inner  recesses  of  her  sad  breast. 
A  few  minutes  later,  she  began  singing  a  song  that 
seemed  in  unison  with  her  own  troubled  soul : 

"  '  Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer, 
Left  blooming  alone; 
All  her  lovely  companions 
Are  faded  and  gone; 
No  flower  of  her  kindred, 
No  rose  bud  is  nigh, 
To  reflect  back  her  blushes, 
Or  give  sigh  for  sigh. 

"  I'll  not  leave  thee,  thou  lone  one, 
To  pine  on  the  stem; 
Since  the  lovely  are  sleeping, 
Go  sleep  thou  with  them. 
Thus  kindly  I  scatter, 
Thy  leaves  o'er  the  bed, 
Where  thy  mates  of  the  garden 
Lie  scentless  and  dead." 


186  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

From  the  first  note  of  Myrtle's  clear,  melodious  voice 
every  sound  in  that  great  hall  became  hushed — on,  on 
the  young  girl  sang,  forgetting  the  sea  of  faces  turned 
toward  her ;  living  only  in  her  song  and  thinking  she 
was  a  child  again  roaming  in  the  woods  beside  the  old 
lime  sink — singing  her  sad  lament  to  the  birds  and 
fishes.  Was  this  a  human  being  that  gave  forth  such 
rapturous  sounds?  Men  and  women  rose  unconsciously 
to  their  feet  and  gazed  upon  the  beautiful  woman  before 
them  with  wonder  and  awe,  for  she  had  stirred  chords 
in  their  souls  that  had  long  since  slept  dormant,  but 
now  were  suddenly  revibrating  on  hearing  music  that 
seemed  to  come  from  the  far-away  home  of  the  blessed. 
Each  and  every  one  leaned  forward  in  order  not  to  lose 
a  single  note. 

"  So  soon  may  I  follow, 

When  friendships  decay, 

And  from  love's  shining  circle 

The  gems  drop  away. 

When  true  hearts  lie  withered, 

And  fond  ones  are  flown, 

Oh!  who  would  inhabit 

This  bleak  world  alone! 

The  spell  deepened  as  the  song  continued ;  every  per 
son  in  the  house  ceased  to  breathe  and  remained  in 
breathless  suspense  ere  the  last  words  of  the  wondrous 
melody  died  away  and  was  heard  no  more.  After  the 
lovely  songstress  took  her  seat  on  the  rostrum  there 
ensued  an  awful  pause — men  and  women  wept  and 
sobbed  in  perfect  obliviousness  of  their  joyous  sur 
roundings — then  becoming  suddenly  cognizant  of  their 
whereabouts,  the  painful  silence  was  broken  by  one 
continuous  applause  in  order  to  make  their  fair  singer 
come  again  in  song  before  the  footlights.  But  all  was 
useless,  the  lovely  Idma  could  not  be  prevailed  to 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  187 

sing  again — with  queenly  dignity  that  spoke  louder 
than  words  she  bowed  herself  from  the  stage. 

"Ah,  how  little  they  imagine  my  heart  would  break 
were  I  to  sing  another  note  to-night.  Oh,  the  horrible 
pains  that  shot  through  my  heart." 

A  few  minutes  later,  Idma  received  a  star  medal — • 
the  highest  reward  that  had  ever  been  given  in  her 
school. 

After  the  exercises  were  over  nearly  every  man  and 
woman  pressed  forward  to  get  an  introduction  to  this 
Southern  genius  and  divine  beauty,  who  was  now  sur 
rounded  in  a  bed  of  floral  offerings  sent  by  numerous 
friends  throughout  the  city.  Myrtle's  hand  rested  upon 
a  floral  harp  presented  by  Lenfred.  She  received  the 
many  compliments  showered  upon  her  with  a  subdued 
grace,  which  made  one  young  man  whisper  to  some 
chum  near  by:  "If  I  could  get  a  smile  from  her,  I 
would  be  willing  to  work  a  year,  but  where  is  the  man 
she  would  turn  to  look  on?  Boys,  we  had  better  stay 
clear — she  is  too  grand  for  us ;  she  is  the  only  woman  I 
ever  saw7  that  I  thought  would  make  a  suitable  queen. 
She  had  better  never  go  to  Europe,  people  would  make 
her  queen  as  sure  as  life." 

As  soon  as  Myrtle  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
Lenfred,  she  requested  him  to  please  take  her  home. 
"Why,  surely  not  yet,  Miss  Myrtle,  scores  of  persons 
are  waiting  to  be  introduced  to  you." 

' "  If  you  wish  to  make  me  happy,  Mr.  Lamont,  please 
grant  my  request. ' ' 

"But  you  cannot  get  out  the  door,  Miss  Myrtle, 
every  one  will  crowd  about  you." 

"Yes,  follow  me,  we  shall  leave  through  the  side 
entrance. ' ' 

Lenfred,  ever  willing  to  do  Myrtle's  bidding,  at  once 
obeyed  her  command.  How  proud  he  was  to  think  he 


188  THE   IDES   OF  MARCH. 

had  the  privilege  of  escorting  her  home ;  how  happy  he 
was  to  think  in  a  few  short  weeks  he  could  ask  her  to 
be  his  bride.  "My  bride?  what  presumption!  Will 
she  ever  love  me?  True  she  has  been  kind  to  me.  But 
this  is  in  keeping  with  her  sweet  nature,  for  ever}' 
menial  gets  as  much  kindness  from  her  as  the  finest 
lady. 

As  Lenfred  rode  home  with  his  fair  charge  that 
night,  ho  was  somewhat  puzzled.  "Miss  Myrtle,  you 
are  so  different  from  all  other  women  I  have  met;  for  all 
my  acquaintances  among  the  ladies  esteem  the  admira 
tion  of  the  world,  while  you  seem  perfectly  indifferent, 
and  even  worried  at  the  demonstration  and  applause  of 
mankind,  although  I  am  sure  no  one  is  more  worthy  of 
honor  than  yourself. ' ' 

As  Lenfred  and  Myrtle  continued  to  talk,  the  moon 
beams  stole  into  the  carriage  and  playfully  kissed 
Myrtle's  tiny  white  hands,  which  intrusion  seemed  to 
madden  Lenfred,  and  made  him  feel  that  he  would  give 
the  world  if  at  that  moment  he  might  enfold  the  lovely 
girl  to  his  throbbing  breast  and  pour  out  the  deep  love  of 
his  soul.  "Oh,  if  I  could  tell  her  of  my  love,  or  even 
for  one  second  hold  her  hand  in  mine ;  yet  I  had  rather 
have  my  arm  severed  from  my  body  than  to  do  such  a 
thing,  for  I  know  no  man  has  ever  stepped  over  the 
bounds  of  passing  courtesy  with  Myrtle  Dean.  She  is 
a  woman  with  whom  men  never  think  of  flirting — they 
have  only  two  thoughts  when  looking  into  her  pure  face 
— either  she  is  too  good  for  me,  or  can  I  by  perfect  liv 
ing  ever  hope  to  win  her  as  my  wife." 

When  Myrtle  returned  to  Mrs.  Lament's  that  night 
the  good  woman  kissed  and  congratulated  her  fair  pro- 
te(/e,  after  which  the  young-  girl  ran  to  her  room  and 
falling  upon  her  bed  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
Another  girl  would  have  danced  for  joy  on  receiving  a 


THE   IDES  OF  MARCH.  189 

star  medal.  But  such  was  not  true  in  poor  Myrtle's 
case — "what  do  I  care  for  all  this  show — my  mother's 
love  would  be  more  precious  to  me  than  all  the  honor 
of  the  outside  world.  Must  I  indeed  return  home  to 
morrow?  and  shall  I  he  obliged  to  be  thrown  with  Cecil 
once  more?  Oh,  what  if  his  old  love  for  me  should  re 
turn?  Yet  where  else  can  I  go?  Home,  yes  home — no 
there  is  no  home  on  earth  for  Idma  Dean,"  and  the 
poor  girl  buried  her  head  in  her  pillow  and  sobbed  her 
self  to  sleep  in  her  commencement  robe. 

It  was  late  in  the  morning  when  Myrtle  awoke. 

That  same  day  she  returned  home.  It  was  with 
deepest  regret  Mrs.  Lament  parted  from  her  young 
charge.  Myrtle  kissed  her  hostess  fondly  many  times. 

"Mrs.  Lament,  you  can  never  know  how  much  I  ap 
preciate  your  kindness.  I  never  forget  a  favor  shown 
me,  yet  what  can  I  ever  do  that  would  in  any  degree 
prove  my  love  and  gratitude  to  you?" 

"My  sweet  child,  hush — the  pleasure  of  your  stay  at 
my  home  has  all  been  reserved  for  me,  and  I  would 
gladly  keep  you  always.  Myrtle,  how  I  envy  your 
mother.  To  have  you  for  my  own  daughter,  child,  I 
would  ask  no  greater  blessing. ' ' 

Lenfred  was  standing  near,  and  when  Myrtle  met  his 
earnest  gaze  her  face  suddenly  crimsoned.  Mrs.  La- 
mont,  on  seeing  the  sweet  girl's  cheeks  flush,  became 
aware  of  making  a  mistake,  although  she -knew  she 
would  have  said  the  same  words  had  she  never  known 
a  son's  love.  The  good  woman  felt,  however,  to  excuse 
her  thoughtlessness  would  make  things  worse,  hence 
she  only  kissed  Myrtle  more  affectionately  as  she  bade 
her  a  tearful  good-by. 

A  moment  Inter  Lenfred  and  Myrtle  were  in  a 
carriage  on  their  v, ay  to  the  depot;  neither  seemed 
inclined  to  speak,  for  Myrtle  was  sad  and  Lenfred's 


190  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

soul  was  too  full  of  ardent  love  for  idle,  common 
place  words.  As  the  noble-hearted  man  helped 
the  lovely  girl  from  the  carriage,  did  he  hold  her  tiny 
hand  a  second  longer  and  press  it  with  more  warmth 
than  usual?  Did  he? 

So  excited  had  Lenfred  become,  he  was  thoroughly 
unconscious  of  strangers  passing  by  and  smiling — per 
haps  if  they  had  been  questioned,  they  would  have  re 
plied:  "That  man  is  certainly  madly  in  love  with  that 
girl ;  but  who  could  censure  him  for  it?  Her  beauty  is 
certainly  enough  to  craze  any  person." 

"Miss  Myrtle,"  and  Leuf red's  voice  grew  tremulous, 
"I  am  sorry  to  have  you  leave  us;  you  certainly 
brought  joy  and  happiness  to  our  home,  and  I  hope  it 
will  not  be  long  before  you  return  to  make  mother  a 
visit.  You  must  not  forget  our  home  is  ever  open  to 
the  sv/eet  Southern  singer,  yes,  you  will  always  have 
true  and  hearty  welcome  at  our  home. ' ' 

It  was  not  what  Lenfred  said  but  what  his  deep  blue 
eyes  and  his  tender  accent  bespoke,  that  made  Myrtle 
cast  her  long,  dark  eyelids  down,  for  she  knew  his 
searching  gaze  was  riveted  upon  her  face.  Love  is 
often  felt  even  when  no  words  of  affection  have  been 
spoken. 

"Good-by,  Miss  Myrtle,  in  a  few  short  weeks  I  shall 
bring  mother  to  Florida,  and  we  shall  both  see  you 
again,  and  then  I— 

"Please  get  off  the  train,  Mr.  Lament,  I  will  listen 
to  nothing  now,  I  am  so  afraid  you  will  get  hurt — do 
you  not  see  how  fast  the  cars  are  moving?" 

Lenfred  intended  saying:  "I  wish  you  to  decide,  Miss 
Myrtle,  my  happiness  or  misery  in  life."  Myrtle  felt 
by  Lenfred' s  deep,  low  tone  that  lie  expected  to  speak 
to  her  words  of  great  moment  to  himself,  and  as  she 
did  not  love  him,  only  hold  ing  him  in  the  highest 


THE   IDES  OF  MAkCH.  191 

esteem,  she  wished  to  retain  his  friendship.  She 
knew  if  he  once  made  love  to  her/  and  she  rejected  him, 
ever  afterward  there  would  be  a  certain  estrangement 
between  them.  Oh,  how  glad  she  was  when  the  train 
commenced  to  roll  a\vay  from  the  depot,  which  gave 
her  an  excuse  for  uttering  the  words  she  had  spoken  to 
Lenfred.  As  the  train  rounded  a  curve  near  the  depot 
Myrtle  saw  Lenfred  standing  alone  looking  down  upon 
the  pavement  with  dejected  expression  upon  his  sad 
face. 

"Ah,  me,  so  gentle,  so  kind,  but  no  love— no  love — yet 
God  grant  I  am  mistaken  in  my  views.  There  must 
be  some  hope — oh,  fair  woman,  why  did  I  ever  meet 
you?  Know  you  not  that  you  hold  the  destiny  of  my 
life  in  your  tiny  white  hands?  For  all  my  love,  will 
you  say  me  'nay?' "  and  then  Lenfred  turned  and 
walked  with  a  sad  heart  homeward,  wondering  if  it 
were  possible  to  persuade  this  lovely  songstress  of  the 
fair  South  to  warble  her  sweet  bird  notes  far  away  from 
her  br'ght  sunny  clime. 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  Shall  I  not  take  ray  ease  in  mine  inn  ?" 

— Shakespeare. 

ON  Myrtle's  return  home  Mrs.  Dean  did  not  so  much 
as  look  up  as  her  daughter  kissed  her.  No  smile  of 
joy,  no  kind  welcome,  no  demonstrations  of  love  did 
she  give  her  daughter,  but  instead  the  mother  looked 
with  coldness  upon  her  as  she  said:  "I  suppose  you 
think  you  are  grown,  now  that  you  have  come  back 
here  with  all  of  your  New  York  airs,  but  I  tell  you  in 
the  beginning  you  are  in  my  eyes  the  same  as  when 
you  left,  and  you  know  that  is  not  much.  I  am  sorry 
you  have  come  back.  I  wish  you  had  stayed  off  for 
ever,  for  I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  to  see  you ;  but  I  will 
dismiss  some  of  my  servants  and  let  you  do  their  work, 
and  in  this  way  maybe  I  can  get  some  good  out  of  you. 
I  am  determined  that  you  shall  never  have  any  pleasure 
in  my  house  so  long  as  you  live.  I  wish  that  you  wrere 
dead,  but  people  of  whom  you  wish  to  rid  yourself 
never  do  die." 

Poor  Myrtle  did  not  say  a  word — but  tried  hard  to 
keep  back  the  tears. 

"And  is  this  the  welcome  a  daughter  receives  from 
her  mother  after  having  been  separated  for  j'ears?" 

Leita  coming  up  at  this  moment,  kissed  her  sister 
affectionately:  "Myrtle,  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come 
home;  maybe  you  can  cheer  my  poor  husband.  He 
has  been  sick  a  long  time,  and  for  the  past  two 
weeks  he  has  been  a  great  deal  worse.  Go  and  see 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  193 

him ;  I  will  come  in  a  few  minutes — as  soon  as  I  can 
boil  him  some  milk." 

Myrtle  knew  she  would  have  to  meet  Cecil,  so 
thought  she  had  as  well  get  through  with  the  dreadful 
ordeal.  Going  to  Cecil's  door,  she  knocked  gently. 

"Come  in." 

It  was  the  same  voice,  only  more  feeble,  that  she  had 
loved  so  well  as  a  child.  With  beating  heart  she 
turned  the  knob  and  stood  just  within  the  doorway; 
what  did  she  see?  A  form  with  pale  face,  sunken 
cheeks,  and  hollow  eyes.  Was  this  Cecil — the  handsome 
Cecil  Clair,  whom  she  had  known  some  few  years  ago? 
It  was  evident  that  he  had  suffered,  but  had  he  suffered 
as  much  as  she?  Both  looked  at  each  other;  each 
waited  for  the  other  to  speak,  yet  neither  said  a  word. 
The  silence  had  grown  painful,  and  Myrtle  cast  her 
gaze  downward  with  a  saddened,  troubled  expression 
on  her  pure  face.  Cecil  observing  her  embarrassment 
tried  to  relieve  the  awkwardness  of  the  moment: 
"Myrtle,  my  child,  you  have  a  welcome  home.  I  am 
sorry  I  could  not  meet  you  at  the  depot,  yet  I  hope  it  is 
all  for  the  best.  I  suppose  you  would  rather  see  me  in 
this  condition  than  any  other,  unless  as  a  corpse ;  but 
come  nearer,  my  child,  my  voice  is  too  weak  to  speak  at 
such  a  distance.  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me  now, 
for  I  am  only  a  shadow  of  my  former  self." 

Myrtle  did  as  she  was  requested,  and  came  near 
the  large  invalid  chair  in  which  her  brother  was  seated. 

"Myrtle,"  he  continued,  "I  do  not  ask  you  to  kiss 
me ;  I  do  not  ask  you  to  shake  hands  with  me,  but  I  do 
ask  you  to  speak  to  me.  For  three  long  years  I  have 
not  heard  your  voice,  speak  to  me,  my  child.  Carry 
me  back  once  more  to  those  happy  days  when  you  were 
a  little  girl." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  can  do  that,  brother  Cecil,  but 
I  am  indeed  sorry  to  come  home  and  find  you  sick." 


194  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

"Your  sympathy  is  in  keeping  with  your  childhood 
days.  Myrtle,  I  thank  you,  yet  I  am  glad  I  am  sick, 
and  when  I — "  then  he  coughed  violently  ere  he  could 
speak  again.  "Myrtle,  you  will  be  happy  soon,  my 
child." 

She  did  not  ask  him  what  he  meant,  for  his  pale  face 
told  the  sad  story.  The  bitterness  that  had  been  in 
Myrtle's  heart  all  these  years  seemed  to  have  given 
place  to  pity  as  she  gazed  upon  his  emaciated  form ;  for 
she  knew  he  had  changed.  "You  have  come  back  at 
last,  Myrtle.  I  am  very  glad,  for  I  thought  I  should 
never  see  you  again,  but  I  thank  God  I  can  once  more 
gaze  into  your  pure  sweet  face.  I  wished  to  see  if  you 
had  changed — yes,  you  have,  but  not  as  much  as  I ;  you 
can  yet  be  happy." 

He  seemed  to  be  talking  to  himself  in  a  delirious 
way,  and  when  he  had  finished  he  fell  back  exhausted 
in  his  chair. 

' '  Let  me  call  sister  Leita !  possibly  she  can  give  you 
something  to  ease  you?" 

"No,  no,  I  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  minutes — don't 
bother  her.  Poor  woman,  how  faithful  she  has  been 
since  I  have  been  sick.  God  never  gave  better  wife  to 
so  undeserving  a  husband.  She  is  almost  broken  down. 
A  lingering  sickness  is  a  dreadful  thing.  I  do  not 
mind  it  so  much  for  myself,  but  I  dislike  to  see  my 
poor  wife  going  day  and  night.  I  know  it  will  break 
her  health,  and  she  is  so  young  and  fair  I  would  not 
see  her  fade  on  my  account." 

' '  She  will  not,  Cecil,  for  I  will  help  her  nurse  you. 
I  believe  I  am  considered  a  good  nurse." 

Cecil  did  not  answer  Myrtle,  his  eyes  were  closed, 
but  she  saw  a  tear  steal  from  under  his  closed  lids  and 
roll  down  his  haggard  face.  Poor  man,  a  kind  word 
from  one  he  thought  despised  him  had  melted  his 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  195 

heart.  "Will  she  indeed  nurse  me  after  I  have  given 
her  so  much  sorrow?  Ah,  she  is  the  Myrtle  I  once 
knew — the  same  kind  heart,  same  angelic  Myrtle.  She 
sees  at  last  that  I  have  tried  to  live  a  better  life,  and 
that  I  shall  soon  die  of  remorse.  Although  her  sorrow 
has  been  very  great  it  has  been  nothing  like  mine,  for 
mine  is  slowly  but  surely  taking  me  to  my  grave,  while 
she  can  yet  live  and  be  happy. 

In  the  days  and  nights  that  followed  Myrtle  relieved 
Leita  a  great  deal  by  helping  her  nurse  Cecil.  Neither 
she  nor  Cecil  had  spoken  of  the  bygone  days,  and  it 
seemed  buried  forever  in  the  past.  Never  was  there  a 
word  or  look  that  each  would  not  have  been  willing  for 
the  world  to  have  seen  and  heard.  But, the  thoughts 
that  came  to  each  of  them !  You  can  bury  words  and 
actions,  but  who  can  bury  thoughts?  The  very  effort 
you  make  to  smother  them  only  brings  sad  memories 
more  vividly  to  your  mind. 

It  was  with  no  little  self  control  that  Myrtle  attended 
Cecil.  Her  face  was  often  sad  as  her  mind  reflected 
upon  other  days,  and  she  at  times  even  grew  angry 
with  herself.  When  Cecil  would  see  this  sadness, 
which  she  strove  so  hard  to  hide,  he  would  turn  his 
head  and  heave  a  deep  sigh :  "Poor  child,  although  she  is 
good  enough  not  to  speak  harshly  yet  I  know  she  has 
never  forgotten  that  dreadful  night,  and  she  continually 
heaps  coals  of  fire  upon  my  head. ' ' 

"Myrtle,"  said  Leita  one  day,  "I  am  so  glad  you 
have  come  home,  for  I  wanted  to  take  Cecil  to  Florida, 
but  was  afraid  as  I  had  no  one  to  help  me  nurse  him. 
Now  that  you  have  returned  I  know  you  will  go  with 
me — won't  you?  I  know  your  mother  does  not  care." 

"Why,  certainly  I  will  go,  sister  Leita,  especially  if 
I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

Preparations  were   immediately  made,  and  in  a  few 


190  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

weeks  we  find  them  all  in  Florida.  Ulhugh  had  pre 
ceded  them,  and  was  waiting  with  no  little  impatience 
Myrtle's  arrival ;  and  when  he  saw  her  he  was  happy 
beyond  measure.  Now  he  could  tell  her  of  his  love  for 
her,  but  he  would  wait  for  a  good  opportunity  lest  he 
should  shock  her,  or  appear  rude. 

Although  Myrtle  loved  no  one  living,  she  was  always 
happy  when  in  Ulhugh's  presence;  she  was  glad  when 
he  came  and  sorry  when  he  left.  His  manliness  and 
trueness  stamped  him  as  no  ordinary  man.  He  was 
the  handsomest  man  she  had  ever  met,  but  this  had 
very  little  or  no  weight  with  her.  The  best-looking 
man  in  the  would  would  have  been  as  the  ugliest  if  he 
intended  his  personal  appearance  to  carry  him  through 
life.  Ulhugh  was  now  cultured,  refined,  exceedingly 
entertaining,  and  his  dark,  flashing  eyes  were  sufficient 
to  make  any  girl  fall  in  love. 

Day  after  day  he  met  Myrtle,  at  the  same  time  his 
love  becoming  deeper  and  deeper  till  it  had  grown  al 
most  to  idolatry.  Myrtle's  indifference  had  changed  to 
interest;  and  from  interest  to  friendship;  and  from 
friendship  to  sisterly  love,  which  was  fine  progress  for 
one  like  Myrtle  Dean. 

Cecil  had  improved  greatly  and  was  able  to  walk 
about  the  yard,  consequently  Myrtle  was  freed  from 
nursing  him  and  could  do  very  much  as  she  pleased. 

"Miss  Myrtle,"  said  Ulhugh  one  day,  "we  are  get 
ting  up  a  party  to  go  to  St.  Augustine,  and  we  would 
be  delighted  to  have  you  go  if  you  care  to." 

"I  know  of  nothing  to  prevent,  Mr.  Waldo,  I  am 
sure  I  would  like  very  much  to  go." 

"Thank  you.  I  know  I  will  have  a  good  time  now 
since  you  are  going." 

"I  am  not  so  certain  that  I  can  make  you  happy — I 
rarely  do." 


THE  IDES   OF  MARCH.  197 

"Don't  you?  Well,  you  do,  even  if  you  are  uncon 
scious  of  it." 

Two  days  later,  we  find  the  party  in  St.  Augustine 
—the  oldest  city  in  the  United  States.  What  a  quaint 
town  it  is,  with  the  old  fort  and  Spanish  houses  scat 
tered  here  and  there.  A  few  minutes'  drive  brought 
Myrtle  and  Ulhugh  in  front  of  the  far-famed  Ponce  de 
Leon. 

"Oh,  Ulhugh,"  cried  Myrtle,  "I  have  often  dreamed 
of  fairyland,  but  never  thought  I  would  see  one  in 
reality ;  to  think  it  is  the  month  of  January,  yet  the 
flowers  are  blooming  and  the  birds  singing  just  as  they 
would  in  the  sweet  May  time ;  and  these  quaint-looking 
plants  almost  lead  me  to  believe  I  am  in  the  tropics." 

Myrtle  further  noticed  elegant  ladies  with  flashing- 
diamonds,  dressed  in  white  silk,  and  wearing  white 
satin  or  kid  shoes,  while  handsome  men  sat  near  hold 
ing  white  parasols  over  these  fair  creatures. 

As  Myrtle  saw  the  beautiful  flowers  and  heard  the 
crystal  fountains  splashing  and  making  the  little  gold 
fish  dart  here  and  there  in  their  liquid  beds,  a  spell 
seemed  to  take  possession  of  her,  and  she  felt  she  would 
fain  live  forever  in  this  enchanted  garden. 

"Let  us  see  the  parlor,  Miss  Myrtle,"  and  Ulhugh 
led  the  way  into  this  room  of  regal  splendor ;  for  the 
mantelpiece,  with  its  clock,  is  itself  a  thing  of  beauty 
which  you  may  study  for  days  without  seeing  all  its 
intricate  carvings.  The  tread  of  feet  is  never  heard  as 
you  walk  over  the  heavy  plush  carpets,  and  the  divans, 
tete-a-tete  and  everything  about  the  apartment,  even 
to  the  pictures  upon  the  walls,  would  have  suggested  to 
the  mind  of  a  sultan  an  Eastern  harem,  for  sweet  idle 
ness  and  ennui  take  possession  of  you,  so  that  it  is  im 
possible  to  shake  off  your  dreaminess ;  and  as  you  sink 
down  on  the  low,  soft  lounge,  you  forget  all  care.  Yes, 


198  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

as  the  soft,  sweet  music,  the  warbling  notes  of  mock 
ing  birds,  the  murmur  of  crystal  fountains,  the  per 
fumed  orange  blossoms,  come  stealing  in  through  tho 
tapestry  door,  which  is  ever  and  anon  blown  aside  by 
sweet  zephyrs,  you  just  forget  you  are  on  earth,  and 
feel  you  are  in  the  land  where  Fairies  and  Cupids  dwell, 
for  you  dream  of  love,  think  of  love,  and  talk  of  love. 

Hence  do  you  wonder  that  Ulhugh  should  have  whis 
pered  love  to  the  "star-eyed"  Idrna?  Ulhugh  and 
Myrtle  sat  beneath  a  window  facing  a  beautiful  garden, 
which  they  had  not  before  this  time  observed,  for  the  inn 
appeared  to  be  built  in  the  midst  of  a  somewhat  circular 
flower  garden.  Thus  Ulhugh  saw  things  that  day ; 
whether  he  was  accurate  he  cared  not.  He  only  knew 
he  was  in  love,  and  hence  looked  at  the  world  through 
lover's  lens.  Into  a  retreat,  hidden  from  the  careless 
gaze  by  heavy,  flowing  drapery  and  having  a  window 
from  which  could  be  viewed  a  lovely  garden,  Myrtle 
and  Ulhugh  sat  thinking;  or  rather  the  beautiful  girl 
was  dreaming,  for  as  she  watched  the  tiny  humming 
birds  sipping  sweets  from  every  perfumed  flower  as 
they  darted  here  and  there  with  a  sleepy  buzz,  her  eyes 
had  a  far-away,  heavenly  look  in  them. 

As  Ulhugh  gazed  upon  that  sweet,  calm  face  that 
had  a  sadness  written  upon  it  which  was  beyond  all  de 
scription,  he  wondered  if  he  dare  tell  her  of  his  love. 
Oh,  how  he  longed  to  pour  out  his  soul  to  the  one  being 
whom  he  had  ever  loved  and  trusted.  Myrtle  appeared 
to  have  forgotten  any  one  was  near,  for  not  one  word 
had  she  spoken  for  five  minutes.  Ulhugh  continued 
to  watch  her  face,  which  was  indeed  a  study,  but  failed 
to  fathom  her  thoughts,  for  the  longer  he  looked  upon 
her  the  more  puzzled  he  became.  Being  unable  to 
longer  suppress  his  love,  Ulhugh  spoke  with  his  manly, 
characteristic  bluntness. 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  109 

"Miss  Myrtle,  I  wish  to  know  if  it  is  possible  for 
such  a  fair  creature  as  yourself — one  who  is  pure 
enough  to  dwell  in  heaven — ever  to  love  me?" 

Myrtle  looked  startled,  but  Ulhugh  continued:  "I  do 
not  wonder  your  dark,  sad  eyes  gaze  upon  me  in  amaze 
ment,  for  I  know  I  cannot  make  love  with  poetic 
words.  Teach  me,  beautiful  woman,  what  to  say. 
Long  I  have  striven  to  keep  my  devotion  buried,  know 
ing  I  was  not  half  worthy  of  you.  Hence  for  you 
I  wished  to  go  to  school,  to  equip  myself  for  life's  work. 
For  you  I  burned  the  midnight  lamp,  so  that  I  might 
be  congenial  with  you  in  knowledge;  for  you  I  have 
endeavored  to  make  a  man  of  myself,  feeling  that  thus 
only  would  I  be  in  keeping  with  your  own  highborn 
nature.  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  day  I  gazed 
upon  you,  and  I  asked  you  to  keep  that  ring  that  you 
might  not  forget  me,  for  I  was  then  a  helpless  lad,  and 
am  now  but  a  poor  man;  yet,  I  love  you,  Myrtle;  and 
if  by  striving  I  can  ever  hope  to  win  you,  I  am  willing 
to  labor  for  your  happiness  and  comfort  day  and  night. 
I  suppose  I  should  have  become  well  established  in  my 
medical  profession  ere  I  told  you  of  my  love,  but  I 
feared,  while  waiting,  another  bearing  a  greater  name 
might  gain  your  heart,  and  take  you  for  his  own  sweet 
bride,  and  then  would  I  ever  have  been  left  alone  in 
life.  I  know  you  think  it  presumption  for  me  to  talk 
to  you  of  my  devotion  when  I  have  no  wealth,  but  you 
have  heard  of  my  history  long  since — how  all  my 
father's  property  was  swept  away  during  the  war;  yet, 
Myrtle,  I  have  great  and  boundless  love;  and,  thank 
God,  I  have  also  a  pure  and  honest  name  to  offer  you; 
and  I  hope  also  through  sobriety  and  diligence  to  gain 
in  the  course  of  time  a  lucrative  practice.  I  feel  as 
sured  it  will  tcJcj  years  to  become  well  established  in 
my  profession,  yet  in  the  meantime  I  expect  to  work 


200  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

constantly.  Myrtle,  in  the  years  of  toil  awaiting  me, 
may  I  not  have  joy  in  the  expectancy  of  one  day.  after  I 
have  made  a  success  of  life,  of  your  becoming  my  be 
loved  wife? 

"Tell  me  my  fate,  Myrtle?  Do  not  let  me  wait  in 
horrible  suspense,  for  I  know  you  are  good  and  noble 
and  would  not  give  ine  pain ;  although  you  look  so 
lovely,  yet  did  I  not  believe  your  heart  to  be  as  pure  as 
your  face  is  beautiful,  I  could  not  love  you. ' ' 

At  these  last  words  of  Ulhugh's  a  quick  flush  spread 
over  Myrtle's  face,  and  there  was  also  a  look  of  pain  in 
her  countenance. 

"Hush,  hush,  Ulhugh,  say  no  more — I  beseech  you; 
no  more  of  love,  for  I  can  never  love  any  man.  For 
give  me  if  I  have  by  word  or  deed  encouraged  you  in 
the  least  degree,  for  if  I  did  I  was  unconscious  of  so 
doing.  Knowing  I  could  never  love,  my  heart  is  so 
frozen  that  it  cannot  be  melted  even  by  your  pure, 
warm  love.  Ulhugh,  if  I  have  deceived  you  and  made 
you  think  I  am  better  than  I  really  am,  God  forgive 
me  for  thus  sinning  against  you.  Oh,  Ulhugh,  if  I  did 
love  you,  I  am  not  worthy  of  your  pure  and  noble  heart. 
I  know  whereof  I  speak,  for  I  have  been  thrown  in 
your  company  ever  since  we  were  children.  You  are 
only  a  few  months  older  that  I,  Ulhugh,  yet  I  seem  to 
know  far  more  of  the  world  than  you  do — hence,  I  say 
it  is  best  that  you  go  and  love  another.  Your  brother 
on  his  dying  bed  requested  me  to  be  a  sister  to  you.  I 
can  grant  his  petition,  but  once  and  forever,  kind 
friend,  I  can  never  give  you  any  hope  of  becoming  your 
wife.  Not  that  I  now,  or  ever  expect  to,  love  another, 
for  I  think  more  of  you  than  any  gentleman  of  my 
acquaintance.  Yet  I  feel  it  is  best  for  you  and  best 
for  me  that  I  remain  forever  Idina  Dean." 

**  Myrtle,  may  God  bless  you  for  saying  you  think 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  201 

more  of  me  than  any  of  your  gentleman  friends,  I 
have  so  taken  you  by  surprise  and  startled  you  by  my 
abrupt  love  making  that  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  in 
different  answer.  I  will  wait  patiently  for  one  month 
itnd  then  ask  you  again  if  there  is  any  hope  for  me. 
Oh,  Myrtle,  Myrtle,  God  grant  that  you  will  love  me, 
and  I  think  you  would,  could  you  ever  realize  how  sin 
cerely  I  worship  you." 

Ulhugh  took  Myrtle's  little  white  hand  that  he  saw 
resting  on  the  side  of  her  chair,  but  the  beautiful  girl 
drew  it  from  him,  and  casting  on  him  her  great,  lus 
trous  dark  eyes  which  spoke  plainer  than  words: 
"Surely,  Ulhugh,  you  have  forgotten  yourself,"  and  the 
beautiful  "star-eyed"  queen  of  the  South  arose  and 
glided  from  Ulhugh's  presence. 


203  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  I  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gratiano, 
A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  a  part, 
And  mine  a  sad  one." 

— Shakespeare. 

DURING  the  month  that  Ulhugh  awaited  an  answer 
from  Myrtle  he  saw  the  lovely  girl  each  day,  yet  not  a 
word  of  love  did  he  speak — only  laughed  and  talked  to 
her  as  any  good  friend  would  have  done.  But  Ulhugh 
was  a  man  that  almost  any  girl  would  have  loved  if 
long  thrown  in  his  company,  so  it  was  no  wonder  it 
gradually  dawned  upon  Myrtle  that  Ulhugh  Waldo 
was  more  to  her  than  she  wished  him  to  be.  Dearer 
now  than  a  brother,  for  her  heart  throbbed  at  the  men 
tion  of  his  name  and  her  dreamy  eyes,  though  still  sad, 
had  a  luster  and  warmth  in  them  never  known  to  their 
dark  orbs  before.  Ah,  it  was  the  fire  that  love  had 
kindled,  and  who  could  now  stay  its  flames?  It  had 
come  to  conquer,  or  to  utterly  consume  its  victim. 

Myrtle  knew  that  love  had  taken  possession  of  her 
heart,  and  in  a  sense  it  gave  her  more  happiness  than 
she  thought  it  possible  for  her  ever  to  realize.  She  had 
tried  hard  to  avoid  Cupid's  arrows,  but  the  little  sprite 
had  taken  deadly  aim,  and  the  cold,  queenly,  beautiful 
Idma  loved  now,  as  only  a  girl  of  her  character  could 
love.  Think  not  it  was  a  passing  fancy — an  impression 
made  on  Idma's  heart  would  last  forever;  and  she  who 
a  few  weeks  ago  was  incased  in  ice  was  now  enveloped 
in  a  sea  of  love  that  dashed  and  raged  against  her 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  203 

throbbing  heart,  making  her  to  ask  herself:  "Am  I  in 
deed  Myrtle?  sha  had  no  heart,  but  this  Myrtle  loves 
U llmgh  as  she  loves  her  own  soul. 

"Ah,  but  why  cherish  my  affection?  I  can  never 
marry.  If  I  have  deceived  the  world,  I  will  not  be 
false  to  him  I  love.  A  husband  has  a  right  to  know  a 
wife's  innermost  soul.  How  could  I  look  Ulhngh  in 
the  face  knowing  I  had  deceived  him?  No,  never, 
never,  could  I  be  so  wicked!" 

Hence  the  love  that  should  have  made  Myrtle  most 
happy,  only  made  her  more  miserable.  Myrtle  thought 
things  were  dreadful  enough  as  they  stood,  but  Ulhugh 
made  them  worse  when  he  said  with  great  sadness  on 
telling  her  good-night:  "Miss  Myrtle,  to-morrow  is  the 
day  of  all  days  to  me — remember  I  am  to  receive  my 
answer  from  you.  Please  be  sure  you  know  your  own 
mind,  for  if  you  discard  me,  I  will  say  good-by  forever; 
goodnight,  and  may  God  help  you  to  love  me." 

He  was  gone,  and  Myrtle  was  left  alone. 

"  'May  God  help  you  to  love  me,'  as  if  I  cared  noth 
ing  for  him!  Ah,  that  is  the  trouble  now — I  love  him 
too  much — why  did  he  cross  my  path?  Asleep  or 
awake  his  image  is  ever  before  me.  I  love  him,  yes,  I 
would  go  through  flames  and  never  feel  the  burn  for 
the  love  I  bear  him.  Love  him?  I  could  be  torn  in 
pieces  by  wild  beasts  and  never  feel  the  wounds  if  it 
\vere  to  free  him  from  harm.  Love  him?  yes,  yes,  I 
love  him;  my  poor  heart  is  crushed  with  the  love  I 
bear  him,  but  Idma's  love  is  too  deep  to  deceive  him 
whom  she  worships!  Ulhugh,  you  shall  go  free;  I 
shall  wear  the  fetters.  My  heart  is  greater  than  even 
3*our  noble  heart  can  conceive,  for  it  is  strong  enough 
to  sacrifice  my  love  for  your  future  happiness.  Ul- 
Lugii.  I  can  never,  never  be  your  wife,  yet  a  dagger  at 
ray  heart  I  could  receive)  rather  than. -tell  you  'nay,'  for 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

oh  how  I  love  you,"  and  the  beautiful  girl  put  her 
hands  over  her  face  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

Cecil  came  under  the  arbor  at  this  moment — alas,  it 
was  that  same  fated  retreat  in  which  they  had  stood 
years  before,  but  Myrtle  was  so  absorbed  in  grief 
that  she  did  not  see  him.  Cecil's  heart  went  out  to  the 
poor  girl,  and  he  would  have  put  his  arms  about  her, 
as  he  had  done  many  times  when  she  was  a  child,  but 
he  knew  she  would  not  receive  his  affection  as  she  had 
done  then,  so  endeavoring  to  comfort  her  as  best  he 
could,  he  said:  "Myrtle,  my  child,  do  you  mind  telling 
me  what  grieves  you?" 

Then  he  went  on  talking  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 

Myrtle  hushed  her  sobs  and  dried  her  tears,  for  there 
was  something  in  Cecil's  sad  voice  that  calmed  her  soul 
just  as  when  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  as  a  little 
girl  and  lulled  her  to  sleep. 

"Tell  me,  child,  is  your  trouble  one  in  which  I  can 
help  you?  I  do  not  wish  to  pry  into  your  life,  and  I 
know  you  will  believe  me  when  I  say  I  only  wish  to 
comfort  you.  Myrtle,  I  had  thought  you  happy.  I 
knew  you  loved  Ulhugh,  for  I  have  seen  your  affection 
grow  from  indifferent  friendship  into  deepest  love,  and 
how  it  has  delighted  my  soul,  although  I  had  hoped 
you  would  love  Lenfred.  Every  one  says  he  is  dead  in 
love  with  you ;  but  if  you  love  Ulhugh,  it  is  well,  for 
whoever  your  choice  may  be,  Myrtle,  I  know  it  is  a 
wise  one,  since  you  are  a  sensible  girl  and  are  better 
acquainted  with  the  two  young  men  than  I — hence 
can  best  judge  of  their  merits.  My  child,  now  that  you 
can  marry  and  be  happy,  why  delay  the  wedding  day? 
Ulhugh  is  poor,  but  I  have  wealth,  and  will  gladly 
give  him  a  start  in  life.  When  you  wish  to  marry,  I 
will  give  you  a  bridal  present  of  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
So  if  it  is  your  lover's  poverty  that  makes  you  cry, 


THE   IDES   OF  MARCH.  205 

Myrtle,  cease  your  tears ;  you  shall  never  want  for  any 
thing  as  long  as  I  have  a  cent." 

Not  one  word  did  Myrtle  utter  in  reply  to  Cecil's  re 
marks,  for  how  could  she  tell  the  poor  sick  man  what 
was  in  her  sad  heart?  It  would  necessitate  the  bring 
ing  up  of  all  the  hateful  past  to  his  mind,  and  this  she 
could  not  do — no,  she  would  endure  her  grief  alone. 
Many  years  she  had  borne  burdens,  she  would  continue 
to  bear  them  until  death  should  set  her  free.  "Little 
one,  will  you  not  tell  me?" 

Myrtle  was  startled — many  days  had  gone  by  since 
he  used  that  term  "little  one"  to  her,  but  she  knew 
she  had  nothing  to  fear  from  Cecil  now,  for  never  had 
he  made  the  slightest  reference  to  the  past.  "Will  you 
not  tell  me  when  the  wedding  day  shall  be,  when  will 
my  Myrtle  be  married?" 

"Never,  Cecil,  never!" 

"Never?  why,  Myrtle,  do  you  deny  your  love  for 
Ulhugh?" 

"No,  I  love  him  more  than  my  own  life." 

"Then,  my  child,  why  do  you  not  marry  him?" 

"I  have  the  best  of  reasons.  Cecil,  please  do  not 
question  me  further — it  would  do  no  good  for  me  to  tell 
you  why  I  cannot  marry  Ulhugh. ' ' 

Like  an  arrow  the  cause  of  Myrtle's  grief  shot 
through  Cecil's  mind.  He  remembered  now  that  long 
ago  she  had  said  she  would  never  marry ;  alas,  he  knew 
too  well  the  reason  of  the  sweet  girl's  misery.  Cecil 
disliked  to  refer  to  the  past,  yet  he  was  willing  to  do 
anything  to  bring  happiness  to  Myrtle. 

"My  child,  I  know  your  reason  for  not  marrying — 
you  told  me  before  you  left  for  school,  yet  I  had  hoped, 
as  the  years  rolled  by,  you  had  changed  your  mind. 
Are  your  feelings  on  this  subject  the  game  as  they  were 
theu,  Myrtle?" 


206  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

"Yes,  Cecil,  but  let  it  pass." 

"Child,  because  I  am  sick,  in  the  goodness  of  your 
heart  you  would  spare  me  every  pain,  but  I  beseech  you 
to  keep  nothing  from  me;  it  will  relieve  your  mind  to 
confide  in  me.  Will  you  not  tell  me  what  you  were 
crying  about  a  few  minutes  ago?" 

' '  Cecil,  I  do  not  wish  to  make  j~ou  sad,  but  as  you 
have  insisted  on  knowing  my  sorrow,  listen — a  few 
weeks  ago  Ulhugh  addressed  me — I  refused  him.  It 
was  not  hard  for  me  to  say  'no'  then,  for  I  did  not  love 
him,  although  I  admired  him  more  than  any  man  I 
had  ever  met.  He  told  me  as  his  lovemaking  had  been 
rather  sudden  and  abrupt,  he  would  wait  one  month  so 
that  I  might  have  due  time  for  reflection  ere  I  gave  to 
him  my  final  decision.  He  has  not  spoken  one  word  of 
love  since,  but  having  seen  him  from  day  to  day,  the 
sisterly  feeling  I  once  had  for  him  has  grown  into  an 
other  that  is  far  beyond  a  sister's  affection.  Ah,  yes, 
into  a  love  so  fervent  that  I  am  frightened,  not  know 
ing  what  might  be  the  grave  consequences  of  such  ardent 
devotion.  A  few  minutes  ago  Ulhugh  left  me  with  these 
words:  'Miss  Myrtle,  if  you  reject  me  the  second  time, 
I  will  go  where  you  can  never  again  see  me.'  Cecil,  I 
am  crying  because  my  second  answer  must  be  as  my 
first — either  this,  or  tell  him  what  my  life  has  been.  I 
cannot,  I  will  not  deceive  the  man  I  marry.  What 
must  I  do  Cecil?  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  what  course  to 
pursue,  for  I  love  him  until  my  soul  seems  consumed 
in  love.  Oh,  it  will  be  so  hard  for  me  to  give  him  up 
forever!"  and  the  poor  girl  wrung  her  hands  with  grief 
seeming  to  forget  the  presence  of  him  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  all  her  sorrow. 

It  is  needless  to  say  Cecil  knew  more  anguish  than 
Myrtle,  for  often  those  who  are  the  cause  of  another's 
distress  suffer  themselves  the  more  agony.  Cecil 


THE  IDES   OF   MARCH.  207 

wiped  his  cold  brow,  and  tried  in  every  way  to  comfort 
Myrtle,  yet  his  words  were  of  little  avail. 

"Cecil,  I  shall  tell  Ulhugh  all  my  life  and  let  him 
decide  for  himself  if  it  is  best  for  me  to  marry  him." 

"Myrtle,  my  child,  what  do  I  hear?  You  certainly 
do  not  expect  to  reveal  your  past  history  to  your  lover ; 
he  of  all  persons  in  the  world  should  be  kept  in  the 
dark ;  and  why  tell  him  anything  about  your  former 
life.  For  do  you  know  there  are  only  a  few  couples 
who  would  dare  divulge  to  each  other  the  secrets  that 
are  forever  locked  in  their  bosoms?  Myrtle,  you  are 
too  conscientious.  Be  wise,  my  child;  have  you 
thought  of  the  grave  consequences  of  such  grievous  in 
formation,  and  then,  Myrtle,  Ulhugh  would  think 
you  told  him  the  truth  only  in  part.  Furthermore, 
your  lover  would  kill  me  as  he  would  a  common  dog. 
Not  that  I  would  mind  his  murdering  me,  my  child ;  it 
would  only  be  a  release  from  the  torment  I  have  suffered 
since  that  fated  night,  for  you  can  see  I  am  dying  from 
remorse  of  conscience,  and  have  but  a  few  days  to  live; 
so  it  is  not  for  myself,  but  for  you,  Myrtle,  and  my 
poor  wife  I  plead;  for  if  I  should  be  killed  by  Ulhugh 
the  disgrace  would  be  felt  by  all.  The  law  would  compel 
him  to  give  a  reason  for  my  death,  and  he  would  have 
to  state  the  plain  facts  in  the  case  to  save  his  own  life. 
Oh,  Myrtle,  my  child,  think,  think  well,  I  beseech  you, 
ere  you  bring  such  anguish  upon  yourself  and  family." 

Cecil  had  risen  from  his  seat,  and  was  walking  ex 
citedly  to  and  fro  in  the  little  arbor — his  face  was  as  pale 
as  death,  and  he  appeared  to  be  much  weaker  than  usual. 
Myrtle  perceived  his  anguish,  and  felt  she  had  given 
him  needless  suffering.  "Forgive  me,  Cecil,  that  I 
should  have  given  you  the  least  pain  while  you  are  yet 
sick ;  try  to  calm  yourself ;  for  I  shall  never  do  any 
thing  that  can  injure  you  or  any  whom  you  love.  You 


908  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

are  coughing ;  it  is  now  best  that  you  go  into  the  house. 
There,  I  hear  Leita  calling  you  now — I  suspect  she  is 
worried  about  your  being  out  in  the  night  air." 

As  Cecil  walked  away  Myrtle  thought — "Ah,  surely, 
'the  wages  of  sin  is  death.'  I  know  the  end  is  nearly 
come  to  this  poor  man ;  he  cannot  possibly  live  but  a 
few  days  longer.  It  appears  doubly  sad  when  it  is  re 
membered  the  beginning  of  his  life  was  so  bright  and 
prosperous,  and  to  think  his  sun  must  set  in  gloom. 
Although  he  has  forever  ended  my  happiness,  God  help 
me  to  forgive  him  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven.  I  wish 
him  to  die  in  peace.  Ulhugh.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow 
for  the  last  time — I  would  tell  you  my  sad  history,  but  I 
would  not  endanger  the  life  of  Cecil.  You  shall,  Ul 
hugh,  soon  forget  me,  go  marry  a  sweet,  trusting 
woman ;  you  will  yet  become  happy  in  her  love ;  but  poor, 
fated  Idma  shall  sorrow  and  grieve  and  live  in  loneliness 
with  none  to  comfort  and  cheer  her,  for  he  whom  she 
loved  and  worshipped  shall  be  lost  to  her  forever. 

"  One  fatal  remembrance,  one  sorrow  that  throws 
Its  bleak  shade  alike  o'er  our  joys  and  our  woes, 
To  which  life  nothing  darker  or  brighter  can  bring, 
For  which  joy  has  no  balm  and  affliction  no  sting." 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  209 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"  I  thought  thy  bride-bed  to  have  decked,  sweet  maid." 

— Shakespeare. 

ON  Mr.  Felix's  return  home  he  read  Raymond's  let 
ter  and  then  taking  Edith's  picture  in  his  hands  gazed 
intently  into  the  sweet  face.  "My  God,  what  do  I  see? 
This  is  Viola  Waldo's  child  as  certain  as  I  live.  Too 
often  have  I  visited  Ulhugh  in  his  early  married  life  to 
have  forgotten  the  lovely  face  of  his  child-bride,  whose 
beauty  was  too  peculiarly  striking  to  be  forgotten.  I 
also  remember  they  had  a  little  girl,  and  because  of  her 
striking  likeness  to  her  mother  Ulhugh  wished  the  lit 
tle  one  to  be  named  Viola,  but  to  this  Mrs.  Waldo 
objected,  and  later  persuaded  her  husband  to  name  the 
baby  Edith  for  a  loved  schoolmate  of  hers.  Ah,  my 
fears  are  only  too  true' — when  is  the  wedding  day?" 

Mr.  Felix  looked  at  the  invitation  card,  which  he  al 
ready  knew  by  heart,  and  then  sighed  deeply.  "It 
will  be  impossible  for  me  to  arrive  in  Baltimore,  even 
if  the  train  is  on  time,  until  the  exact  hour  of  the  wed 
ding.  What  shall  I  do?  Something  must  be  done  at 
once  to  prevent  this  horrible  consummation.  Ah,  I 
will  telegraph  immediately  to  Raymond,"  and  Mr. 
Felix,  not  waiting  to  put  011  his  hat,  rushed  through  the 
streets  like  a  madman,  and  going  direct  to  the  tele 
graph  office  sent  this  telegram : 

"In  the  name  of  all  that  is  sacred  do  not  marry.  I 
come  on  the  next  train  so  as  to  prove  the  impossibility 


210  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

of  your  union  with  the  young  lady.     1  Ijeseoch  yon  stop 
everything  until  you  see  me. 

"   r       A       IT1  r-  '  T  i-    " 
«J  .   j-\.   i1  EL.IX. 


The  message  like  many  other  telegrams  was  delayed, 
and  you  have  already  witnessed  the  dreadful  conse 
quence  of  its  non-arrival. 

When  Edith  and  Raymond  became  aware  of  their 
being  brother  and  sister,  news  that  at  one  time  would 
have  been  so  sweet  to  them,  now  made  bitterness  of 
agony  bejrond  description.  Edith  when  alone  with 
Raymond  threw  herself  in  her  brother's  arms  and 
sobbed  bitterly.  The  bridal  veil  becoming  wet  in  tears, 
she  moaned:  "Take  it  from  me,  unpin  it,  Raymond,  I 
shall  never  need  it  more.  Oh,  Raymond,  how  I  love 
3Tou.  and  to  think  our  deepest  devotion  will  become  our 
greatest  curse!  Oh,  my  Father,  what  can  I  do  without 
my  Raymond?"  and  the  beautiful  girl  wept  and  refused 
to  be  comforted. 

"Edith,  my  darling,  I  know  it  is  hard  for  one  so 
young,  fair,  and  free  from  care  to  bear  this  heavy  bur 
den;  would  it  were  in  my  power  to  suffer  for  you,  my 
darling;  yet  try  to  calm  yourself.  God  will  give  you 
strength  if  you  ask  Him.  Ah,  if  the  late  war  sent  as 
much  anguish  into  every  home  North  and  South  as  our 
family  has  experienced,  there  surely  would  never  more 
be  clashing  of  arms,  for  men  would  learn  to  reason 
with  each  other  rather  than  kill  one  another  in  cold 
blood,  leaving  their  families  to  grieve  and  suffer  for 
generations  afterward.  I  do  not  censure  my  dear 
father,  or  any  one  individual,  but  strange  it  is  thai 
Christian  nations  do  not  learn  a  better  way  to  settle 
their  differences. 

"Raymond,  my  brother,  my  lover,  my  husband,  you 
can  never  be — tell  me  no  more  of  war ;  my  heart  is 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  211 

bursting  because  I  must  forever  be  separated  from  you. 
Will  you  indeed  leave  me,  my  Raymond?  please  say 
you  will  not,  for  I  die  the  day  I  see  your  face  no  more. ' ' 

"My  darling,  my  poor  little  thing,"  and  he  stooped 
and  kissed  tenderly  the  childlike  face,  as  he  continued : 
' '  Precious,  if  we  had  known  of  our  near  kinship  before 
the  world  knew  of  our  love  we  might  have  lived  together 
as  devoted  brother  and  sister,  but,  under  the  existing  cir 
cumstances,  it  would  look  wrong  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  should  I  continue  longer  to  see  your  face.  So, 
darling,  I  must  leave  this  very  night  for  California ; 
the  sooner  we  separate,  my  angel,  the  better  it  will  be 
for  both  of  us.  And  now,  my  angel,  kiss  me  good -by. 
I  had  rather  be  torn  in  pieces  than  to  part  from  my 
darling,  or  to  see  her  suffer  as  she  does  to-night.  Yet 
what  has  been  decreed  w-3  should  meet  with  Christian 
fortitude.  Good-by,  good-by,  my  darling — a  last,  long 
kiss,  my  beautiful  bride.  Perhaps  we  shall  never  meet 
again  on  earth,  yet  your  sweet  face  is  so  indelibly  im 
pressed  on  my  heart  that  I  shall  see  it  as  the  days  come 
and  go,  and  never  can  I  forget,  darling,  how  lovely 
you  looked  to-night.  Remember  further,  my  precious 
sister,  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  shall  all  be  gath 
ered  in  an  unbroken  family — to  dwell  with  mother, 
father,  and  the  many  loved  ones  gone  to  the  other  shore, 
where  'there  is  neither  marriage  nor  giving  in 
marriage,  but  all  are  as  the  angels  in  heaven. '  ' ' 

Edith  made  no  answer,  simply  clung  to  Raymond  as 
a  frail  tendril  twines  itself  about  something  strong. 
Gently  and  tenderly  the  brother  took  from  his  neck  his 
sister's  snowy  white  arms.  Edith  made  no  resistance ; 
poor  girl,  she  was  too  weak,  and  now  her  strength 
seemed  to  be  fast  failing.  Raymond  imprinted  one 
more  fervent,  loving  kiss  on  his  Edith's  tear-stained 
cheeks,  and  then  turning  to  leave  he  noticed  a  sweet, 


212  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

calm  smile  upon  her  lovely  face.  "Thank  God,"  he 
thought,  "my  darling  is  becoming  reconciled.  Oh,  I 
can  stand  anything  better  than  to  see  my  Edith  suffer. 
Mine — did  I  say?  Ah,  mine  no  more  forever." 

A  few  minutes  later,  Mrs.  De  Long  went  in  Edith's 
room,  and  found  her  in  the  same  state  of  mind  in  which 
Raymond  had  left  her.  Gently  the  foster-mother  un 
dressed  her  beautiful  daughter,  and  thinking  as  Edith 
did  not  speak  she  preferred  to  be  quiet,  the  good 
woman  also  remained  silent;  yet,  thinking:  "Poor 
child,  I  would  not  add  to  her  grief,  for  I  know  her 
heart  is  bursting. "  Mrs.  De  Long  then  tucked  Edith 
in  bed  as  she  had  done  so  often  in  days  gone  by  and 
kissed  tenderly  and  gently  the  flushed,  feverish  cheeks 
of  the  lovely  girl,  and  turned  the  gas  low  prior  to  leav 
ing  the  room.  But  think  not  the  good  woman  slept 
that  night,  for  her  anxiety  concerning  Edith  was  too 
great,  and  she  fain  would  have  visited  the  young  girl's 
room  had  she  not  feared  she  would  disturb  the  fair 
sleeper's  rest.  However,  at  the  early  dawn,  the  mother 
being  overcome  with  anxiety  for  her  daughter,  tipped 
to  Edith's  door  and  knocked  gently.  Receiving  no 
answer  she  walked  lightly  into  her  daughter's  room. 

What  did  she  see?  Edith  lying  on  her  snowy  bed 
with  her  fleecy  bridal  veil  wrapped  about  her  perfect 
form,  with  the  same  sweet  smile  upon  her  face  that  her 
lover  had  noticed  ere  he  had  taken  his  final  farewell  of 
his  betrothed,  with  this  exception — there  was  now  no 
color  in  the  dimpled  cheeks,  and  the  mischievous  dark- 
blue  eyes  had  forever  lost  their  sparkling  luster.  "God 
have  pity,"  cried  the  broken-hearted  mother,  for 
Edith's  golden  hair  had  become  as  snow-white  as  her 
tiny  hands  that  lay  folded  on  her  calm,  peaceful  breast. 
"Alas,  alas,  my  beautiful  Edith  is  dead!  Yes,  dead- 
dead!" 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  213 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

CASS — "The  ides  of  inarch  are  come." 
SOOTH — "Ay  Csesar,  but  not  gone." 

— Shakespeare. 

CECIL  being  very  ill  when  the  day  arrived  for  Myrtle 
to  give  her  final  decision  to  her  lover,  the  young  girl 
wrote  Ulhugh  to  postpone  hia  visit  until  her  brother 
might  become  better.  Cecil  continued  quite  sick  for 
weeks,  yet  Myrtle  was  ever  faithful  in  nursing  the 
man  who  had  made  her  life  so  unhappy.  In  the  mean 
time  Lenfred  had  come  and  on  meeting  Ulhugh  there 
immediately  sprang  up  a  warm  friendship  between  the 
two  young  men ;  and  when  Lenfred  found  that  Ulhugh 
was  the  son  of  the  Waldo  who  had  saved  his  life  on  the 
battlefield  of  Manassas,  his  heart  went  out  with  in 
creased  love  for  his  new  friend. 

Lenfred,  having  already  established  himself  on  the 
pinnacle  of  his  profession,  was  called  in  to  attend  Cecil 
in  his  illness.  The  young  physician  saw  Myrtle  now 
each  day,  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  his  lovo  for  the 
beautiful  girl  increased  hourly,  especially  as  he  ob 
served  the  gentleness  with  which  she  nursed  her  sick 
brother,  and  how  she  tried  in  every  way  to  relieve  her 
sister  of  all  burden  and  care  attendant  upon  lingering 
sickness.  In  truth,  Myrtle  was  a  sweet,  ministering 
angel,  and  Lenfred  only  waited  Cecil's  recovery  to 
breathe  forth  his  ardent  love  for  the  beautiful  girl, 


214  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

when  an  unlooked-for  incident  occurred  that  startled 
him  greatly. 

Strolling  alone  in  the  woods  one  day  he  became  tired, 
and  sitting  down  on  an  old  log,  as  he  rested,  some  busi 
ness  transaction  came  into  his  mind ;  putting  his  hands 
into  his  pocket  to  get  a  piece  of  paper  so  as  to  make 
certain  calculations — he  felt  in  this  and  that  pocket, 
both  large  and  small,  yet  no  paper  could  he  find — pity, 
pity,  then  turning  his  head  his  eyes  rested  on  a  clean 
white  sheet  on  the  ground.  After  finishing  the  cipher 
ing,  .he  was  about  to  tear  the  paper  and  cast  it  from 
him,  when  he  accidentally  noticed  his  name  written  on 
the  other  side  of  the  page. 

"Well,  this  is  strange;  who  is  writing  my  name 
and  throwing  it  about  the  woods?  I  must  see  what  it 
means. ' '  And  by  the  fast-fading  twilight  Lenf red  read : 

' '  Oh,  Myrtle,  Myrtle,  how  I  long  to  know  that  you 
love  me.  You  said  once  you  did  not  love  me,  but  will 
there  never  be  any  hope  for  Ulhugh — he  that  has  ever 
been  your  friend  since  boyhood?  Do  }*ou  not  know  the 
brightest  days  will  be  as  midnight  without  the  sunlight 
of  your  sweet  face?  How  I  do  envy  Lenfred's  seeing 
you  from  day  to  day.  Oh,  Myrtle,  what  if  you  should 
love  him,  and  it  would  be  but  natural,  for  he  is  intelli 
gent,  refined,  wealthy,  handsome,  polished,  healthy,  a 
true  Christian  gentleman ;  in  short,  the  most  rounded 
find  perfected  manhood  is  centered  in  him.  Should  he 
lay  all  he  possesses  at  3rour  feet,  could  you  say  him 
knay?'  Yet,  Myrtle,  my  darling,  think,  oh  think,  be- 
iore  you  send  me  away  in  despair — 

Lenfred  read  this  note  and  everything  reeled  before 
him.  "He  loves  her,  but  she  does  not  love  him.  I,  too, 
love  her — would  she  ever  love  me?  I  have  the  right  to 
find  out,  as  she  has  refused  Ulhugh,  which  is  quite  evi 
dent  from  this  note.  She  is  free,  thank  God,  and  as  I 
have  loved  her  all  these  years  and  have  been  forced  to 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  215 

keep  locked  my  heart's  secret,  it  is  but  proper  that  I 
should  immediately  go  and  tell  my  fair  queen  all  the 
love  of  my  soul.  If  she  loved  Ulhugh,  I  would  feel  in 
honor  bound  to  still  subdue  my  affections,  but  as  she 
cares  nothing  for  him  I  feel  free  to  press  my  suit,  and 
as  Cecil  is  much  better  to-day,  I  shall  go  at  once  and 
tell  my  treasure  of  my  love  for  her." 

Lenfred  pondered  these  things,  and  reviewing  his 
life,  his  mind  unconsciously  reverted  to  that  night  on 
the  battlefield  of  Manassas  when  he  had  thought  him 
self  almost  past  life,  and  another  soldier — Waldo  by 
name — lay  dying  by  his  side ;  but  ere  this  brave  South 
ern  soldier  breathed  his  last  he  had  snatched  the  cloth 
that  served  to  stanch  his  life-blood  from  his  own  wounds 
and  bound  it  about  the  boy  in  blue,  at  the  same 
time  giving  the  Northern  lad  the  last  drop  of  water  in 
his  canteen,  and  for  all  this  kindness  the  brave  soldier 
made  a  strange  request : 

' '  Lad,  if  in  the  weary  years  to  come  you  can  in  any 
way  add  to  the  happiness  of  my  baby  boy,  will  you 
do  so?" 

"Oh,  God,  oh,  God!  it  is  his  voice  from  the  spirit- 
land.  And  I  did  swear,  yes,  my  oath  was  trebly  bound 
by  the  droppings — thud — thud — thud !  of  his  life-blood ; 
and  now  to  think  the  young  man  who  wrote  this  note  is 
that  dying  soldier's  'baby  boy.'  What!  Did  the  father 
peer  through  the  years,  even  to  this  fated  day?  Was  a 
vision  granted  the  suffering  soldier  that  he  should  have 
made  of  me  this  fated  request?  And  I  did  swear,  yes, 
it  seemed  then  a  little  thing  for  me  to  grant ;  but  alas,  I 
know  now — too  late — it  involves  my  eternal  happiness. 
Must  I  in  truth  give  up  all  hope  of  ever  winning  the 
queenly  Idma,  and  see  her  given  to  another  just  wiien 
she  seemed  almost  my  own?  Surely  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  intercede  for  Ulhugh  while  I  with  bursting  heart 
long  to  claim  her  my  own  fair  bride !  No,  never — I  can- 


216  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

not — I  will  not.  Hark,  hush,  does  the  dying  soldier  in 
ghostlike  accents  speak  to  me  from  the  tomb?  Oh, 
man,  you  had  never  survived  the  battlefield  of  Manas- 
sas  had  not  the  soldier  in  gray  died  that  the  lad  in 
blue  might  live.  Take  heed,  your  young  life-blood 
still  pulsates  with  active  vitality;  you  have  wealth, 
position,  while  I  am  dead,  my  body  dust,  my  name 
forgotten — let  it  pass.  Yet  my  son,  my 'baby  boy,'  my 
namesake,  my  Ulhugh,  poor  and  unknown,  for  him  I 
come  from  the  spirit-land  to  intercede.  He  has  nothing 
except  the  hope  he  has  centered  in  the  beautiful  Idma 
Dean.  Will  you  take  from  him  his  all,  and  blast  his 
young  life  when  it  is  on  the  eve  of  br.rsting  into  happi 
ness?  Your  oath,  young  man.  your  oath." 

In  imagination  Lenfred  saw  the  dying  soldier  appear 
before  him  with  ghostly  visage  pleading  for  his  baby 
boy.  Arising  from  the  old  log,  Lenfred  gazed  about 
him  with  a  wild,  vacant  stare  on  his  sad,  dejected  coun 
tenance,  and  had  Ulhugh  come  to  search  for  the  note 
he  had  accidentally  dropped,  he  would  Lave  mistaken 
Lenfred  for  a  madman.  No  one,  however,  molested 
the  soul -perplexed  victim  who  for  hours  remained  in 
that  lonely  spot  alone  with  his  grief — trying  to  decide 
in  some  way  his  future  course  toward  Uihugh  and 
Myrtle.  His  heart  telling  him  one  thing,  while  his 
conscience  bade  him  do  another.  Midnight  passed, 
and  still  the  struggle  went  on.  "Must  I  ask  myself 
the  same  question  a  thousand  times,  and  come  to  the 
same  conclusion?  Is  it  possible  for  me  to  see  another 
take  my  beautiful  Idma,  and  lose  her  forever?  No,  it 
cannot  be!  it  shall  not  be!"  Lenf red's  forehead  had 
become  damp  and  cold;  the  heavy  night  dews  fell  thick 
about  his  uncovered  Lead — still  he  seemed  to  feel  noth 
ing  save  the  anguish  that  gnawed  at  his  breast.  At 
last  sinking  upon  the  ground,  it  dawned  upon  his  soul 


THE  IDES   OF   MARCH.  21? 

to  go  to  the  ever  pitying  Father  for  solace  and  comfort. 
Reverently  kneeling  in  the  stillness  of  that  midnight 
hour  Lenfred  Lamont  poured  out  his  soul  to  his  Maker 
as  he  had  never  before,  and  He  who  knoweth  our  weak 
nesses  enfolded  His  fainting  child  to  His  fatherly  bosom 
and  bore  him  above  the  lashing  waves  of  sorrow  and 
despair,  for  when  Lenfred  arose  from  his  knees  he  was 
as  composed  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened  to  thwart 
his  happy  life  plans.  Yet  could  you  have  scrutinized 
his  calm  face,  you  would  have  observed  he  had  passed 
through  the  crucible,  but  had  come  forth  the  purer 
from  the  contact  with  the  fiery  flames  of  suffering. 

"I  know  my  duty  only  too  well — Idma,  angel  of  my 
life,  I  love  thee  more  than  my  being,  but  alas !  the  love 
I  bear  thee  shall  be  buried  with  me  in  the  grave — my 
Maker  be  praised  that  He  has  given  me  fortitude  to 
keep  my  oath  to  the  dying  soldier.  Doubtless  Myrtle 
did  not  marry  Ulhugh  because  of  his  poverty,  thinking 
perhaps  his  income  was  insufficient  to  support  two  per 
sons.  To  remedy  this,  I  shall  at  once  give  him  an  offer 
to  become  my  medical  partner,  and  then  the  beautiful 
Myrtle  can  have  no  possible  excuse  for  rejecting  Ul 
hugh,  as  he  is  a  man  whose  character  is  not  only  above 
reproach,  but  is  in  every  respect  a  grand  and  noble 
gentleman,  chivalrous  and  brave,  in  truth,  a  fit  hus 
band.  Yes,  even  for  the  queenly  Idma  Dean.  I  shall 
henceforth  lose  no  time  in  endeavoring  to  assure  Myrtle 
of  Ulhugh's  great  merits.  My  sacrifice  is  beyond  that 
which  I  thought  myself  capable  of  making;  yet  I  be 
lieve  God  will  sustain  me  in  my  decision;  for  alas,  I 
know  now  I  could  never  be  happy  with  the  fair  Idma 
Dean  in  that  my  oath  would  be  as  a  ghost  calling  to  re 
membrance  that  horrible  night  at  Manassas.  God 
grant  as  the  years  roll  by  my  suffering  may  become 
blunted.  I  am  exceedingly  glad  mother  does  not  know 


218  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

of  my  devotion  to  Myrtle,  for  while  she  suspects  I 
greatly  admire  the  beautiful  girl,  yet  she  is  not  posi 
tive  of  my  love  beyond  that  of  true  friendship  and  high 
esteem.  And  what  a  blessing  I  have  never  breathed 
my  vows  to  Myrtle.  She  can  now  marry  Ulhugh  and 
live  at  our  house,  and  mother  will  find  in  her  a  sweet 
companion,  and  I  will  still  have  a  sisterly  friend.  Ah 
God  help  me  to  be  true  to  my  oath." 

A  few  days  later,  to  the  amazement  of  all  in  the  little 
village,  Cecil  became  greatly  improved  in  health,  so 
much  so  that  he  persuaded  Lenfred  (better  known  to 
the  outside  world  as  Dr.  Lament)  to  grant  him  the 
privilege  of  a  short  walk.  "Well,  perhaps  a  little  out 
ing  will  do  you  good.  Cecil,  yet  be  sure  not  to  overtax 
your  strength,  for  if  you  do  another  hemorrhage  will 
be  the  inevitable  consequence.  Let  nothing  exciting 
enter  into  your  life — 'forewarned  is  forearmed,'  is  what 
mother  would  say.  Good-by,  I  will  drop  round  and 
see  you  in  a  few  days,  and  I  hope  by  that  time  to  find 
you  much  improved,"  and  Lenfred,  smiling  pleasantly, 
tipped  his  hat  and  walked  hurriedly  out  of  Cecil's  front 
gate.  Ulhugh,  on  meeting  Cecil  a  half  hour  later,  was 
glad  indeed  to  see  him  up,  and  doubly  so  when  he  re 
membered  he  could  now  see  Myrtle.  Hastening  to  the 
old  mansion  Ulhugh  with  beating  heart  rang  the  door 
bell.  The  servant  who  answered  the  summons  was 
requested  to  ask  Miss  Myrtle  if  she  would  enjoy  a 
stroll,  as  it  was  such  a  beautiful  afternoon.  Ten  min 
utes  had  hardly  passed  when  Myrtle  appeared  in  the 
parlor.  Her  greeting  to  Ulhugh  was  in  accents  tremu 
lous  with  sweet  emotion.  Ulhugh  thought  as  she  stood 
before  him  adorned  in  spotless  white  she  had  never 
looked  more  like  an  angel.  "She  is  indeed  too  pure 
and  lovely  for  earth." 

As  the  two  lovers  walked  through  the  sweet-scented 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH  219 

flosver  garden,  Myrtle  paused  and  took  from  her  favor 
ite  rosebush  some  snowy  buds,  and  pinned  them  on 
her  breast. 

"Miss  Myrtle,  I  do  not  remember  ever  having  seen 
you  without  flowers.  Do  you  wear  them  all  the  time?" 

"Most  of  the  time,  Ulhugh,  and  I  frequently  fall 
asleep  with  my  hands  full  of  blossoms.  I  admire  all 
flowers,  but  especially  am  I  fond  of  white  roses  and 
lilies  of  the  valley." 

Myrtle  had  put  on  a  broad-brimmed  hat  so  that  her 
dark  eyes  were  not  seen  by  Ulhugh's  earnest  gaze;  yet 
it  was  best  he  did  not  read  the  meaning  of  those 
fathomless  orbs.  The  lovers  talked  but  little — for  both 
were  absorbed  in  sad  reflection — and  came  after  a  short 
walk  to  a  place  that  wras  beautiful  beyond  comparison. 
The  vines  had  overlapped  and  interlaced  and  twined 
themselves  into  caressing  tendrils  about  old  oaks  as  if 
to  exclude  the  kissing  sunshine  from  the  mossy  roots — 
gorgeous  flowers,  bright-plumed  songsters,  the  faint 
twittering  of  the  humming  birds,  the  low  buzz  of  the 
bumble-bee,  the  rhythmical  dip  of  the  dripping  oars 
in  the  blue  lake  beyond,  the  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle,  of 
the  far-away  cow  bell,  the  sweet,  musical  laughter  of 
children  playing  on  the  sandy  lake  snore,  the  baa-baa  of 
lazy  sheep,  and  the  low  cooing  of  the  turtle  dove — all 
tended  to  enhance  the  charm  of  "Lovers'  Lane,"  as  this 
tunnel  of  loveliness  was  fitly  called.  Surely  death  itself 
would  be  sweet  when  the  senses  were  lulled  to  rest  by 
faint  incenses  of  perfumed  flowers,  and  weary  eye 
lids,  touched  by  the  airy  wings  of  golden  butterflies, 
closed  in  sweet  forgetfuluess  to  wake  in  fairer  celestial 
climes.  Lenfred  was  entering  "Lovers'  Lane"  when 
he  observed  the  lovers  approach,  but  he  hastily  made 
his  retreat,  while  Myrtle  tarried  to  gather  the  wild 
flowers  that  grew  in  her  pathwray. 


220  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  cloud  their  sunny  lives 
with  my  saddened  being;  if  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  be 
joyous,  I  will  not  debar  others  of  pleasure.  Oh,  beau 
tiful  woman,  be  happy,  for  it  is  not  necessary  that  one 
should  tell  me  you  too  have  suffered  in  life  from  some 
hidden  grief,  and  if  the  loveliest  creature  in  all  the  world 
has  sorrow,  shall  I  go  free?  Yet,  I  had  hoped  to  glad 
den  your  sad  face,  but  'never  more,'  'never  more,'  is 
the  cheerless  knell  that  echoes  in  the  silent  halls  of  my 
darkened  soul.  Ah,  Poe,  I  comprehend  alas,  too  late, 
the  croaking  of  thy  ill-omened  Raven,  wailing  forth 
'never  more' — 'never  more!' ' 

Myrtle  nervously  twining  the  wild  flowers  into  a 
beautiful  wreath  threw  it  carelessly  about  her  exquis 
itely  formed  neck  and  shoulders,  and  entered  "Lovers' 
Lane."  Her  heart  beat  fast  and  loud,  for  she  knew 
this  tunnel  of  loveliness  would  be  to  her  a  martyr's 
ground;  yet  her  mind  was  firmly  fixed.  She  had 
prayed  for  courage, and  knew  in  whom  she  trusted.  "I 
will  in  a  few  short  moments  bid  adieu  forever  to  the  man 
I  hold  dearer  than  my  life,  but  better  an  eternal  fare 
well  to  him  I  love  than  endanger  the  life  of  Cecil,  or  to 
deceive  Ulhugh  in  reference  to  my  true  character." 

The  young  couple  sat  underneath  an  old  moss-covered 
tree,  with  daisies  and  violets  blossoming  beneath  their 
feet ;  all  nature  seemed  hushed  to  catch  their  whispers 
of  love.  Ulhugh  had  wished  his  wooing  to  be  in 
accents  as  sweet  as  ancient  kiiights  to  their  ladies  fair; 
but  poor  man,  his  only  thought  now  was  that  Myrtle 
would  surety  hear  the  loud  throbbing  of  his  beating 
heart,  and  alas  that  which  he  intended  to  say  passed 
forever  from  his  mind.  He  saw,  moreover,  Myrtle's 
nervousness  and  felt  keenly  the  awkwardness  of  tl:o 
occasion;  neither  spoke.  The  perplexity  of  each  be 
came  doubly  embarrassing. 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  221 

At  last,  with  a  mighty  effort,  Ulhugh  managed  to 
stammer:  "Myrtle,  you  know  me  too  well  to  expect 
anything  but  bluntness  from  my  tongue.  I  am  not 
gifted  in  wooing,  my  darling,  but  you  know  only  too 
well  I  love  you.  I  now  ask  you  to-day,  once  more, 
and  also  for  the  last  time,  if  there  is  any  hope  of  your 
becoming  my  bride?  I  have  more  to  offer  you  to-day 
than  I  had  one  month  ago,  for  Dr.  Lamont  wishes  me 
to  be  his  medical  partner,  as  his  practice  has  become 
entirely  too  large  for  one  man  to  attend  to  properly. 
He  tells  me  that  he  has  had  his  eyes  open  for  some 
time  trying  to  find  a  suitable  partner.  I  certainly  feel 
grateful  and  flattered  that  he  has  selected  me  from 
among  his  numerous  acquaintances;  and  oh,  Myrtle, 
my  darling,  how  happy  I  was  when  I  knew  I  would 
soon  have  a  remunerative  practice,  for  I  felt  because  of 
my  poverty  you  had  refused  my  heart.  But  now  with 
bright  prospects  to  lay  at  your  feet  have  you  any  en 
couragement  to  give  me — will  you  be  my  wife,  Myrtle?" 

No  answer  came  to  Ulhugh's  question,  but  instead 
an  awful  death-like  stillness  ensued,  and  Myrtle  turned 
her  head  from  her  lover's  earnest  gaze,  that  he  might 
not  see  the  agony  depicted  in  her  countenance.  Yet 
Ulhugh  continued  to  plead — his  manly  voice  made 
tremulous  now  with  the  burning  love  of  his  soul :  "Oh 
Myrtle,  my  angel,  through  many  weary  years  have  I 
waited  that  I  might  filially  win  you,  and  if  you  will 
promise  to  be  mine  forever,  you  know  I  will  strive  to 
my  utmost  to  make  you  happy.  I  doubt  not  you  be- 
liove  the  sincerity  of  my  words.  When  last  I  spoke  to 
you,  Myrtle,  of  my  devotion,  you  said  you  admired  me 
above  any  of  your  gentleman  friends — has  your  esteem 
grown  to  more  than  a  sisterly  regard — speak  to  me, 
pui-cdt,  loveliest  being — tell  me  my  fate — will  you  bo 
mine?" 


222  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

"Never,  never,  Ulhugh,"  and  Myrtle  wrung  her 
hands,  her  grief  being  beyond  her  control;  even  her 
lover  observed  her  sad,  tearful  countenance.  "Leave 
me,  Ulhugh,  I  can  never  marry  you." 

"Myrtle,  my  darling,  I  will  not  leave  you,"  and  Ul 
hugh  clasping  tenderly  her  little  cold  white  hands  tried 
to  kiss  them  into  warmth  once  more.  "No,  Myrtle,  I 
will  not  leave  you  until  I  hear  from  your  own  lips  you 
care  nothing  for  me.  I  pray  you,  my  angel,  tell  me 
truly  do  you  not  love  me?" 

With  beating  heart  Ulhugh  waited  Myrtle's  reply, 
which  never  came.  "Ah,  Myrtle,  you  are  too  true  to  de 
ceive  me,  darling — those  sad,  beautiful  eyes  that  have 
haunted  and  charmed  me  all  through  my  almost  fated 
life  tell  me  that  which  you  are  too  modest  to  whisper. 
Yes,  my  angel,  your  soulful  orbs  have  betrayed  your 
heart's  secret.  Love  is  written  in  their  mysterious 
depths;  my  Myrtle,  yet  fain  would  you  try  to  conceal 
it  by  those  long,  drooping  lids — ah,  my  darling,  are  you 
ashamed  of  love — the  purest,  sweetest  bliss  given  to 
mortal  man?" 

"Oh,  Ulhugh,  I  am  distracted,  leave  me  alone  with 
my  grief,  I  pray  you;  persecute  me  no  longer." 

"My  darling,  you  are  doing  the  persecuting — you  do 
not  deny  your  love,  and  if  you  have  the  slightest  affec 
tion  for  me,  why  can  I  not  hope  some  day  to  win  you? 
Is  it,  Myrtle,  because  you  think  your  station  in  life  is 
above  mine?" 

"No,  no,  Ulhugh,  I  thought  you  knew  me  better  than 
to  think  thus  of  me,"  and  with  a  melancholy  expression 
in  her  lustrous  dark  eyes  Idma  looked  into  the  wistful 
face  of  her  lover,  and  whispered  sadly : 

"Ah,  Ulhugh,  it  would  be  the  happiest  day  of  my 
being  could  I  become  your  wife,  but  I  cannot ;  I  dare 
not!" 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH.  223 

"Myrtle,  my  darling,  are  you  betrothed?  Surely  I 
am  becoming  crazed ;  have  mercy,  fair  woman,  and  give 
me  some  clew  to  all  this  mystery.  Are  you  engaged  to 
another?" 

"No  indeed,  Ulhugh,  no  man  ever  spoke  one  word  of 
love  to  me — I — never — I — no — unmar — I ' ' 

"Oh,  Myrtle,  my  darling,  confide  in  me;  why  do  you 
not  marry  me?  Forgive  my  seeming  rudeness  in  ask 
ing  you  such  a  question ;  but  I  will  hazard  frowns  if  in 
the  end  I  might  win  your  affection.  Speak,  Myrtle, 
ideal  of  all  that  is  lovely  and  pure,  is  there  any  hope 
for  a  poor,  unknown  Southern  boy,  with  no  inheritance 
save  the  pure  and  spotless  name  bequeathed  by  a  grand 
and  noble  father,  who  poured  out  his  life-blood  to  save 
our  fair  Southland ;  yes,  and  if  a  hundred  lives  he  could 
have  had,  all  and  more  would  have  been  gladly  given 
in  his  country's  service.  And  now,  Myrtle,  will  you 
scorn  the  brave  soldier's  son,  because  as  yet  he  has  not 
made  a  name  for  himself?  Ah,  Myrtle,  it  must  be  true, 
else  why  do  you  persist  in  refusing  my  offers  of  love?' ' 

The  silence  that  then  ensued  was  equalled  only  by 
the  stillness  of  death.  Myrtle  did  not  dare  speak  for 
fear  she  might  unlock  the  hidden  secret,  of  her  soul — • 
seconds  passed  into  minutes,  and  eternity  alone  will 
tell  the  anguish  pent  in  the  heart  of  those  two  Southern 
children. 

"Myrtle,  I  fall  at  thy  feet;  all  homage  will  I  give  to 
thee,  beautiful  queen  of  my  heart,  but  as  I  kneel  before 
thy  supreme  loveliness  it  has  suddenly  and  horribly 
dawned  upon  me  that  you  love  another.  Surely,  Myrtle, 
you  must  love  Lenfred — why  did  I  not  see  it  before? 
Oh,  God,  how  can  I  give  you  to  another?  Yes,  you 
are  too  good  to  wound  my  feelings  by  telling  me  you 
love  LenfreJ.  Myrtle,  my  darling,  farewell,  let  me 
clasp  once  more  those  little  white  hands  and  kiss  them 


224  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

for  the  last  time — my  darling,  I  go  to  lands  far  distant 
to  make  for  myself  a  name ;  you  shall  never  see  my 
face  again,  Myrtle ;  but  remember,  my  angel,  your  pure 
life  has  been  a  sweet  and  holy  benediction  to  my  soul. 
One  more  fervent  kiss,"  and  Ulhugh  turned  suddenly 
to  go,  so  as  to  hide  his  deep  emotion  from  the  sad-hearted 
Idrna. 

"Stay,  stay  Ulhugh,  I  beseech  you;  I  implore  you." 
and  Myrtle  wrung  her  hands  and  moaned.  "Oh,  Ul 
hugh,  could  you  see  my  sorrowing  heart  you  would  not 
sharpen  my  grief  by  telling  me  you  were  going  to  leave 
me  forever;  have  mercy,  Ulhugh,  say  you  will  not  go," 
and  Myrtle  clung  closer  to  her  lover,  as  she  saw  him 
about  to  forsake  her.  With  gentleness  Ulhugh  put 
her  aside. 

Before  Ulhugh  had  gone  five  feet  he  thought  he 
heard  a  husky  voice.  "Stop,  young  man,  stop — " 
Myrtle  startled,  turning,  saw,  to  her  amazement,  Cecil 
before  them. 

"Young  man,  please  listen  to  me.  I  came  here  to 
rest,  but  unavoidably  have  heard  your  conversation, 
and  now  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  seeming  intrusion, 
and  bear  with  me  awhile.  Yes,  listen;  this  queenly 
girl  could  have  married  any  man  in  this  fair  Southland 
or  Northland  either  if  she  had  so  chosen,  but  she  pre 
ferred  you  to  all  other  men.  She  knew  you  had  neither 
wealth  nor  name,  but  loved  you  for  that  which  every 
woman'  should  love  a  man — individual  merit.  Would 
you  know  why  she  would  not  consent  to  marry  you?" 

"Oh,  Cecil,  hush,  please  do  not  tell  him,"  and  Myrtle 
putting  her  arms  about  her  brother's  neck  pleaded  in 
vain  for  him  to  keep  silent.  She  well  knew  when 
"Greek  met  Greek"  she  might  expect  a  fearful  "tug 
of  war."  Cecil  gently  put  his  beautiful  sister  from 
him:  "My  child,  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  speak j 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  225 

do  not  try  to  silence  me — I  will  take  the  consequences 
of  this  hour. ' '  With  anguish  in  her  sweet  voice,  Myrtle 
in  pleading  accents  whispered:  "Cecil,  do  not  tell  him; 
he  will  kill  you." 

The  sick  man  only  smiled.  "Myrtle,  my  child,  I 
hold  not  my  life  dear  unto  myself,  my  purpose  is  fixed, 
I  expect  to  tell  Ulhugh  all." 

The  beautiful  girl,  with  sorrow  depicted  on  her  coun 
tenance,  stood  by  her  brother's  side,  trembling  like  an 
aspen  leaf — her  face  was  as  white  as  her  snowy  dress, 
for  she  felt  a  fearful  tragedy  was  about  to  ensue,  as  two 
brave  Southern  knights  were  now  face  to  face.  She 
well  knew  neither  Cecil  nor  Ulhugh  would  brook  an 
insult  unavenged. 

"Oh,"  thought  Myrtle,  "what  can  I  do  to  avert  this 
storm  that  is  about  to  burst  upon  our  fated  heads?" 

"Young  man,  have  patience,  and  be  not  amazed  if 
your  blood  freezes  or  boils  before  I  finish  my  story.  This 
lovely  girl  has  a  mother,  which,  on  a  casual  glance,  is 
beautiful ;  yet  did  you  study  her  face  you  would  find 
the  warmth  of  soul  never  came  to  soften  her  haughty 
expression.  And  although  she  is  a  woman  of  great 
brilliancy  and  culture,  she  is  a  confirmed  infidel;  con 
sequently  we  do  not  expect  to  find  much  good  in  her ; 
neither  is  it  strange,  under  the  circumstances,  she 
should  worship  some  of  her  children,  and  hate  others. 
Myrtle  happened  to  be  one  of  the  number  she  despised." 

"Cecil,  please  do  not  speak  of  my  mother  with  so 
much  disrespect.  I  am  wounded  to  think " 

"My  child,  hush,  for  you  know  I  speak  only  truth. 
As  I  intended  saying,  young  man,  Myrtle  was  neg 
lected  as  if  she  had  been  a  little  waif.  I  lived  in  the 
same  house  with  the  child,  and  my  heart  went  out  in 
sympathy  toward  her  because  of  her  helplessness.  The 
little  one  finding  in  me  a  comforter  brought  her  many 


226  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

sorrows  to  me  that  I  might  soothe  and  console  her.  Sho 
often  sobbed  herself  to  sleep  iu  my  arms,  and  many 
times  have  I  kissed  the  tears  away  from  her  pinched 
cheeks,  as  I  laid  her  tenderly  to  rest  on  her  little  bed. 
As  the  days  went  by  the  child  grew  from  a  frail  bud 
into  a  beautiful  flower;  at  the  same  time  she  became  a 
part  of  my  being  and  I  loved  her.  Yes,  oh  God — 
must  I  say  it?  Loved  her  more  than  ever  a  man  loved 
a  sister.  Start  not,  though  it  turns  your  heart  to  stone 
to  hear  all  I  have  to  say.  To  increase  the  horror  of  the 
situation,  I  was  a  married  man,  and  knew  well  I  should 
not  love  my  beautiful  niece,  for  such  she  is,  although 
she  had  been  taught  to  call  me  brother  from  her  child 
hood.  No  one  will  ever  know  how  hard  I  tried  to  sub 
due  my  affections,  but  all  efforts  to  control  my  love 
was  in  vain;  and  one  night  in  a  mad  hour  (for  God 
knows  I  had  never  premeditated  sinning),  a  demon 
ssemed  to  have  suddenly  taken  possession  of  my  being, 
but  she  fled  from  my  presence  in  the  greatest  alarm. 
She  had  not  left  me  five  minutes  until  I  became  clothed 
in  my  right  mind,  and  I  immediately  began  to  search 
for  her  so  that  I  might  entreat  her  forgiveness.  On 
looking  everywhere  in  the  yard  and  not  finding  her,  I  at 
last  went  to  her  room — she  was  gone.  I  found  on  the 
table  a  note,  the  substance  of  which  was — 'that  rather 
than  sin,  or  have  me  sin,  she  would  die  and  meet  her 
God.'  I  rushed  to  the  lake,  believing  she  intended 
drowning  herself.  On  seeing  me,  she  swooned  from 
fear.  Ere  she  fell  to  the  ground  I  had  caught  her  in 
my  arms,  and  while  in  an  unconscious  state  I  carried 
her  to  the  house  and  laid  her  on  her  bed.  She  knew 
nothing  for  hours ;  when  at  last  she  awoke,  she  was  of 
all  beings  most  miserable,  and  she  continued  the  most 
unhappy  creature  I  ever  saw.  As  the  years  rolled  by  I 
longed  for  the  time  for  her  to  marry,  hoping  she  would 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH.  22? 

then  forget  her  unhappiness,  but  to  my  amazement,  she 
said  she  would  wed  no  man  and  thus  act  a  deceiver.  I 
reasoned  with  her,  but  her  mind  was  as  fixed  as  the  law 
of  the  "Medes  and  Persians,"  and  she  persisted:  'I 
will  never  marry  any  man  with  a  part  of  my  life  hid 
from  his  knowledge.  If  I  am  ever  to  become  a  wife, 
my  husband  will  have  to  know  long  before  the  wed 
ding  day  all  that  has  taken  place  in  my  life.  But  as 
circumstances  are  such  as  to  necessitate  the  conceal 
ment  of  my  early  years,  I  will  remain  unmarried  to 
the  end  of  my  days;'  and  now,  young  man,"  there  was 
observed  at  this  moment  a  sudden  tremor  in  Cecil's 
weak  voice,  "she  who  is  too  conscientious  for  her  own 
happiness,  she,  the  embodiment  of  truth  and  honor, 
stands  before  you  to-day  in  womanly  beauty — too  pure 
for  this  sinful  world.  Ah,  I  have  known  her  from 
babyhood,  and  yon — "  but  the  effort  of  talking  was  too 
much  for  Cecil,  and  he  suddenly  sank  heavily  to  the 
ground.  Myrtle  rushed  to  her  brother's  side,  and  there 
was  anguish  in  her  voice. 

"Oh,  Cecil,  what  can  I  do  for  you?  Look,  Ulhugh; 
excitement  has  brought  on  another  horrible  hemorrhage. 
Oh,  luckless  day!  what  shall  I  do?" 

Quicker  than  thought  Myrtle  threw  herself  on  the 
ground  and  tenderly  lifted  Cecil's  head,  that  was  now 
covered  with  dust  and  saturated  in  blood,  into  her  lap, 
then  moaned  piteously — "Oh,  Ulhugh,  this  is  the  man 
who  buried  your  dead  brother,  and  paid  all  your  ex 
penses  at  college — poor  man,  he  had  a  good  heart,  and 
although  he  sinned  once,  he  like  David  repented  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes ;  for  he  has  been  a  changed  man 
ever  since  that  dreadful  night.  But  this  is  no  slight 
hemorrhage,  go  call  his  wife  at  once,  and  tell  Dr.  La- 
mont  not  to  delay  a  moment  in  coming  to  my  brother's 
relief." 


228  THE  IDES  OF  MARCH. 

Ulhugh  stood  for  a  moment  as  one  dazed,  then  in 
speechless  silence  turned  away  to  carry  out  Myrtle's 
command,  leaving  Idma  alone  with  Cecil.  Myrtle's 
tiny  embroidered  handkerchief  and  her  spotless  white 
dress  was  soon  soaked  in  blood.  Cecil  endeavored  to 
move  his  head  upon  the  ground,  so  as  not  to  further  soil 
his  sister's  dress,  but  Myrtle — sweet  ministering  angel 
— anticipated  his  intentions. 

"Rest  easy,  Cecil,  what  is  my  dress  in  comparison  to 
the  ebbing  of  your  life-blood?" 

There  being  no  abatement  to  the  sick  man's  hemor 
rhage,  and  Myrtle  seeing  her  small  handkerchief  was 
insufficient  to  keep  Cecil's  fast-flowing  blood  from 
her  lap,  with  quick  intuition  undid  her  soft  silken  hair, 
so  as  to  absorb  the  dark  fluid  in  its  meshes — anything 
to  give  her  brother  a  resting  place  for  his  head.  The 
dying  man  saw  her  deed  of  love,  and  groaned  piteously. 

"Oh,  Cecil,  it  is  nothing — I  only  wish  I  knew  of 
something  to  make  you  more  comfortable."  Cecil 
Clair  then  closed  his  eyes,  and  Myrtle  saw  that  death 
had  already  stamped  its  cold  dews  on  his  haggard  face 
—in  a  few  short  moments  he  would  be  gone  forever. 

"Must  he  leave  this  world  and  enter  the  unknown 
eternity  without  one  word  of  sympathy  or  love?  It  is 
impossible  for  his  wife  to  see  him  again  in  life,  as  she 
is  nowhere  in  sight." 

With  Christian  charity — that  is  ever  kind — the  beau 
tiful  girl  stooped  and  kissed  the  bloodstained  lips  of 
Cecil  Clair.  The  dying  man  spoke  not,  but  on  opening 
his  eyes  Mj'rtle  read  in  their  sunken  depths  the  grati 
tude  of  his  soul. 

"Make  your  peace  with  God,  Cecil,"  whispered 
Myrtle,  and  then  it  was  she  remembered  having  prom 
ised  her  brother,  when  she  was  but  a  little  girl,  at  the 
old  lime  sink,  that  should  he  die  before  she  did  she 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH.  229 

would  sing  to  him  in  his  last  moments.  The  thought 
of  singing;  at  this  sad  hour  brought  a  sudden  pang  to 
her  heart,  but  she  was  a  woman  that  never  broke  a 
promise.  So  with  determined  will  power  and  calmness 
that  was  surprising  even  to  herself,  her  sweet  voice 
was  raised  in  plaintive  lutelike  strains : 

"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee, 
Ev'n  though  it  be  a  cross, 
That  raiseth  me, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee." 

Ere  the  sweet,  angelic  tones  of  the  lovely  singer  had 
floated  away  to  the  deep  blue  lake,  Cecil  Clair  opened 
his  sunken  eyes,  and  in  broken,  feeble,  dying  accents, 
whispered :  ' '  Wages — of — sin — is — de — ath !' ' 

"Oh,  Cecil,  surely  you  have  asked  forgiveness  at  the 
hand  of  God?  Remember  he  has  said,  'Though  your 
sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow. ' 
Listen,  dear  brother,  I  will  sing  to  you  again : 

"  When  ends  life's  transient  dream, 
When  death's  cold  sullen  stream, 
Shall  o'er  me  roll, 
Blest  Saviour,  then  in  love, 
Fear  and  distress  remove; 
Oh,  bear  me  safe  above, 
A  ransomed  soul." 

As  Myrtle  sang  a  peaceful  calm  seemed  to  steal  over 
the  dying  man's  haggard  face.  Myrtle  bent  low  to 
hear  his  last  whisper:  "Lei — ta!"  all  was  over!  Cecil 
Clair  was  no  more — his  soul  had  gone  to  meet  his  God ! 


230  THE   IDES   OF   MARCH. 

When  Myrtle  gazed  upon  the  lifeless  form  before  her 
— the  man  whom  she  had  loved  and  worshipped  in 
childhood,  hated  and  feared  in  girlhood,  pitied  and 
soothed  in  womanhood — her  own  sad  life  came  before 
her,  so  as  to  completely  overwhelm  her. 

"Oh,  God,  is  this  indeed  the  once  noble,  handsome, 
dashing  Cecil  Clair,  who  saved  my  life  one  day  from 
the  watery  grave,  and  in  after  years  tried  to— ah,  but  let 
it  pass ;  let  the  dead  rest  in  peace ;  the  living  must  for 
give  if  they  hope  to  be  forgiven.  Strange,  this  man's 
life  should  have  been  so  interwoven  with  mine,  and 
now  the  sin  that  has  caused  his  death  will  drag  me 
down  also?  Is  it  possible  for  any  man  to  sin  unto  him 
self?  Do  not  even  the  innocent  and  pure  have  to  suffer 
because  of  the  errors  of  the  wicked?  Will  not  the 
flames  burn  all  alike  that  come  nigh  unto  it?  Will  not 
every  touch  of  sin  blight  the  soul?  My  brother's  tragic 
death — was  it  because  he  crossed  my  path — was  it  my 
ill-omened  self  that  dragged  him  down — and  is  not  to 
day  the  fated  'Ides  of  March?'  Oh,  my  God,  what 
dreadful  doom  awaits  me?  Ah,  this  fearful  pain  at  my 
heart — Cecil,  I  feel  that  I  too  shall  follow  thee  soon. 
Oh,  dear  Jesus  in  pity  'abide  with  me.  Oh,  God,  give 
me  strength  to  sing  my  favorite  hymn." 

Then  a  holy,  triumphant  light  beamed  in  the  face  of 
the  beautiful  girl,  as  she  trilled  in  "notes  almost 
divine"— 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee." 

Suddenly  the  rapturous  tones  died  to  wake  no  more 
on  earth — the  celestial  strains  caught  by  seraphs  of  God 
had  been  borne  to  His  thorne  on  high  to  mingle  with 


THE   IDES   OF  MARCH.  231 

the.  ceaseless  halleluias  of  the  redeemed  as  they  shout 
eternal  hosannas  to  the  Lamb  for  sinners  slain.  The 
sad,  lustrous,  soulful  eyes  of  the  saintly  girl  cast  for 
giveness  upon  him  who  had  blighted  her  life.  Her 
long  dark  silken  hair,  crimsoned  with  blood,  shaded 
Cecil's  haggard  face.;  and  faintly  murmuring:  "Ul— 
hugh,"  Idma's  queenly  head  slowly  drooped  and  fell 
upon  Cecil  Glair's  lifeless  form.  Yes,  Idma — the  child 
of  the  fated  Ides  was  dead. 

A  few  moments  had  passed  and  Ulhugh  returned  with 
Lenfred.  When  the  lover  saw  Myrtle's  pulseless  form, 
bemoaned  and  cried  out  in  his  anguish :  "My  Maker, 
my  God — Oh,  she  is  dead — dead — oh,  Myrtle,  Myrtle, 
my  darling,  angel  of  my  life — how  I  loved  you !  Oh, 
fated  day  that  I  was  born  only  to  see  all  whom  I  love 
pass  forever  from  my  sight.  Did  any  words  of  mine 
bring  about  this  sad  tragedy?  Oh,  Idma,  queen  of 
my  heart — speak  to  me  once  more — bring  comfort  to 
my  poor,  broken  heart."  The  sorrowing  man  then 
caught  Myrtle's  lifeless  body  in  his  arms,  and  pressing 
it  to  his  throbbing  breast,  seemed  for  the  time  to  lose 
his  reason:  "Oh,  my  darling,  you  cannot  die — you 
shall  not  be  dead,  dead,  no,  no!" 

Lenfred  at  this  moment  gently  touched  the  stricken 
man  and  his  voice  grew  very  tender:  "Ulhugh,  try  to 
be  calm,  I  also  loved  her — yes,  even  as  much  as  you,  but 
she  was  too  pure  to  dwell  upon  this  sinful  earth. 
Think  of  her  lovely  life — beautiful  and  sweet  in  every 
way,  and  thank  God,  it  was  your  good  pleasure  to  have 
been  thrown  in  her  presence  even  for  a  few  days.  Ul 
hugh,  try  to  bear  your  grief — listen,  henceforth  we 
shall  be  brothers,  and  in  the  weary  years  to  come  the 
"Blue"  and  the  ''Gray"  shall  together  share  each 
other's  sorrows " 


THE   IDES  OF   MARCH. 

"Andldma!"  shouted  Ulhugh  excitedly,  in  a  voice 
almost  prophetic : 

"Idma — the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  pure  and  holy 
— shall  be  our  beacon  star,  guiding  us  to  blissful  realms 
of  eternal  love." 


THE  END. 


Jfc  "III  ill  II  fill/  Illll  Illll  JIIJI  (III  III 


